Heir to Chaos
by Ventessel
Summary: After the Yuuzhong Vong invasion, the galaxy is broken. The Galactic Alliance works to rebuild, but tensions run high over reconstruction projects and military buildup. Corellia teeters on the brink of secession and mysterious powers are moving in the shadows. A team of Jedi Knights and elite intelligence operatives work to uncover these plots before war consumes the Alliance.
1. Chapters (1-7)

At the edge of the Coruscant system, near a debris field of ancient asteroids and the broken husks of warships long since destroyed, a _Carrack _cruiser drifts against the darkness of space. Her hull is mostly darkened. Square, angular plates on her hull give the ship a simple but strong appearance. The white glow of her sublight thrusters casts shadows along the length of the hull, illuminating two TIE fighters docked beneath the cruiser.

Lurking on the other side of the debris field is another ship. A small freighter, her hull painted black and coated with absorbent materiels to mask her signature. This frieghter has had her engines modified to operate quietly, at minimal impulse to avoid detection. She is slowly maneuvering around chunks of rock and pieces of wreckage, sliding closer to the _Carrack _ahead of her.

Inside the freighter, her crew is gathered in the loading bay. The deck has been cleared for this meeting, and a large holodisplay is positioned in the center of the hold. A motley assortment of individuals surround the display. Two Jedi Knights; Haythem Kenway, a human with patrician features and greying hair stands beside Sventrare Dermo, a tall Codru-Ji with emerald skin whose four arms ripple with muscles beneath his light brown robes.

A young man with curious golden eyes and shocking blond hair is studying the deck plans of the _Carrack _intently on the holodisplay, his hands resting on his gunbelt, one next to the blaster on each side. His name is Elohirnok Halal, and he has put more enemies of the Alliance in their graves than he can remember.

A man with pale, almost alabaster skin, and icy blue eyes stands near the back of the hold. His eyes never quite seem to move, but he takes in every detail of the room. His pale yellow hair is cropped close to his scalp, and he wears a suit of dull grey Echani combat armor. It is light and flexible, while still being rigid enough to turn aside glancing blows from a blaster or vibroblade, and that is all the edge this man needs.

"Hey, sorry I'm late!"

A smiling, lanky human steps awkwardly into the loading bay, straining with the wieght of a large crate in his arms. His dark brown hair is trimmed to a clean military cut, his jumpsuit is pressed and neatly creased and his nametag reads: _Thrash Ordo_.

Sventrare, the Codru-Ji, moves toward him.

"Please, allow me to assist you."

"Nah, I've got it. Here, just let me..."

Thrash moves to set the crate down, but his left hand slips and the crate falls out of his grasp. In the blink of an eye, Sventrare springs forward and catches the crate before it hits the deck.

Thrash raises an eyebrow,

"Wow. Nice save, Jedi."

Sventrare straightens up and adjusts his robes, nodding politely.

"May I ask what took you so long, Sergeant Ordo?"

"Oh, well ah, see... I wasn't sure how many thermal detonators we were going to need."

Elohirnok, the grim veteran, turns away from the holodisplay and gives Thrash a discerning glare.

"The answer is none, space cadet. This operation is going to be a clean search and seizure."

Haythem chuckles, and placing a hand on Elohirnok's shoulder says,

"In my experience, such things inevitably unearth unpleasant surprises. It can't hurt to prepare for every eventuality."

Sventrare places his upper palms together and looks around at his companions.

"Gentlemen, let us review the operation again. I believe we are almost in range."

…

The holocommunicator on Elohirnok's belt blinked, and he answered it.

"Lieutenant Halal, are we clear to engage?"

"Aye, sir. We disabled their engines. You're good to go, but make it quick, they're scrambling the TIE fighters."

"Understood, Halal out."

Elohirnok stood up in the cockpit and turned around to face the cramped passenger space behind him. The two Jedi were squeezed in with Sergeant Ordo and the cold eyed assassin in his Echani armor. Dim red lighting heightened the shadows in the cabin, but Elohirnok could see all their eyes on him.

"We're on the last stretch here, when we hit the cargo bay fan out and stay sharp. The Jedi are heading for the bridge, I trust you'll keep the crew under control?"

Sventrare nods his agreement, and Haythem replies,

"Everything will go smoothly, Lieutenant. You have my assurances."

"I'm sure. Ok, you other two headcases get to have the real fun. Remember everything you're responsible for?"

Thrash grins and rubs his hands together,

"Yes, sir!"

but the assassin does not respond. Elohirnok looks pointedly at him until he says,

"Yes. I understand the plan perfectly."

"That's what I want to hear."

Elohirnok taps the pilot next to him on the shoulder and makes a gesture with his hand. The pilot gives him a thumbs up and flicks a series of switches on the overhead before opening the throttle on the thrusters. The shuttle leaps forward, speeding towards the _Carrack._

…

Two men stand in the cargo hold of the Carrack, nervously eyeing the circular patch of the hull that is beginning to glow red. They check the blaster pistols in their hands, and crouch down behind some bulky plasteel crates, resting the blasters on the crates to steady their aim.

The patch of hull glows brighter and sparks jump from the edges, skittering about on the deckplates where they land. With a flash of light the durasteel disintegrates entirely. Two green rods of light can be seen inside, and the men in the cargo hold fire their blasters.

Sventrare leaps through the breaching hole in the hull, holding each of his bright green lightsabers in two hands. As he moves, he smoothly deflects both blaster bolts and lands in from of the two men. Sventrare brandishes his lightsabers and growls,

"Drop them and show me your hands!"

The terrified men step back and release their weapons, which clatter to the deck. Right behind Sventrare, Elohirnok steps into the cargo hold and quickly takes in the situation. He stands aside and waves Thrash and the assassin through. Together, those two sprint to the cargo hold turbolift behind the two men who have surrendered. Taking up positions on either side, Thrash looks down the sights of a blaster rifle at the two prisoners while the assassin opens the turbolift controls with a small fusion cutter.

Elohirnok approaches the two prisoners slowly, holding a sleek silver disruptor pistol at waist level.

"On your knees, put your hands behind your head. Both of you, now!"

The men comply, and Elohirnok motions for Sventrare to place them in restraints. The hulking Codru-Ji extinguishes his lightsabers and places binders on both mens' wrists.

Haytham, wearing a dark blue vest and similarly colored Jedi robes, but no cloak, emerges from the shuttle through the still glowing hole in the hull of the cruiser. He holds a smooth handled lightsaber in his hand, but it is not activated.

Sventrare finishes with the prisoners and he and Haytham walk over to the turbolift. By this time, the assassin has pulled out several wires and cut off two panels from the controls. He is immersed in his work, but the doors are open and Thrash motions the Jedi into the turbolift.

A loudspeaker somewhere over their heads crackles to life.

"This is Captain Tanahka, to the intruders in the cargo hold. Can you hear me?"

Elohirnok waves the Jedi away, and they step into the turbolift as the doors close behind them. Looking around for the source of the voice, Elohirnok says,

"I read you loud and clear, Captain. You're under arrest by authority of the Galactic Alliance. My Jedi are on the way to your bridge, I advise you to cooperate fully."

"And whom am I speaking to?"

This time, when the speaker came to life, Elohirnok locked onto it. In a fluid motion, he faced it and raised his pistol, firing as he brought the weapon up to eye level. His shot struck the device, which spewed sparks before crackling weakly and fizzling out.

The assassin straightened up and spoke,

"We're ready."

Thrash nodded quickly and said loudly,

"Sir, we're on the move."

Elohirnok led the trio towards the interior wall of the cargo hold while Thrash removed a block of explosives from a bandoleer slung over his back. The assasssin slipped a blaster rifle off of his back as he moved. It was black, with a shortened barrel and intricate scope mounted above the trigger assembly. The assassin folded out a skeleton stock and shouldered the weapon while Thrash placed the charges on the wall where Elohirnok pointed.

…

On the bridge, the turbolift opened and the two Jedi stepped out quickly, lightsabers ignited. Haytham, his blue saber held in a low guard, moved to the left and scanned the bridge. Sventrare ran gracefully to the right, sabers moving from side to side as he went.

The bridge of the cruiser was mostly open, with four primary consoles facing away from the turbolifts. Five men stood on the other side, unarmed and apprehensive. They were dressed mostly in work dungarees, although two of them wore jackets and pants. One of the latter two stepped forward with his palms in front of him.

"Master Jedi, we mean you no harm. Please explain how we can assist you."

Haytham gestures with his lightsaber,

"Step away from the controls and keep your hands in sight. You're all under arrest for espionage."

The man who stepped forward raises his eyebrows and stutters for a moment,

"Ex- excuse me? Espionage?"

"That is correct."

"Ah, but, we're not spies. Please, Master Jedi, this is all a misunderstanding."

"That remains to be seen."

Haytham moves next to the man speaking and reaches out with a pair of binders.

"Put these on."

The man reluctantly takes the binders and fumbles to put them around his wrists.

"You must listen to me, I'm the Captain of this ship, the _Baelamon Pearl. _We're just prospectors, I..."

Haytham cuts him off,

"That's quite enough. We know what ship this is."

Sventrare secures the other men with binders and moves them away from the control panels. He puts away his lightsabers and stands in front of the prisoners.

"I realize you're quite nervous, but you have nothing to fear. You will be treated fairly by the Alliance, and if you are innocent, no harm will come to you."

One of the men snorts and twists his mouth to the side to spit onto the deck.

"Easy for you to say, Jedi. I've seen some of this 'fair treatment' on Corellia."

Sventrare begins to respond, but Haythem steps over and stares the prisoner down,

"When were you on Corellia last?"

The prisoner shifts his weight from one side to the other and eyes the two Jedi suspiciously,

"That's none of your business. I'm a free man, I go where I please."

Haytham steps forward and grabs the man by the collar, pulling him forward,

"We'll see how long that lasts, you little scumbag." He hisses through clenched teeth.

The prisoner is defiant, meeting Haytham's glare with his own.

Sventrare puts his hands on his lightsabers and glances around at the other prisoners while the captain interjects,

"Cranner, you dumb bastard, knock that off!"

The prisoner looks over at his captain and relents,

"I'm ah, I'm sorry, Master Jedi. I don't want to cause any trouble right now."

Haytham still grips the man's collar with his left hand, and in his right he holds his shimmering blue lightsaber. Sventrare moves closer to him and places a hand on the upper part of his sword arm,

"Peace, Haytham. Don't mind him."

Haytham lets go and steps back.

"You're right, Sven. We'll let the spooks get to the bottom of this."

He shuts off his lightsaber and moves away from the prisoners. The captain visibly relaxes and breathes out heavily. The other prisoners have edged away from Cranner, and he shuffles his feet again, looking from the Jedi to the captain.

With a hiss, the turbolift doors slide open and Elohirnok strides quickly onto the bridge. He has his disruptor in his hand, but it is pointed at the deck. His eyes flicker from left to right and he moves towards Captain Tanahka. The captain watches him approach and shrinks back a little. Elohirnok is wearing an unadorned flight suit, with a light combat vest pulled over it. His face is set in stone, and he never breaks stride until he is next to the captain.

"You're the captain of this vessel?"

"I am. These Jedi tell me my men and I are suspected of espionage?"

"Not suspected. You _are _spies. The only question is for whom. We found monitoring equipment and deepspace scanners in your holds."

"That equipment is for salvage operations, I can assure you. Please, I can explain everything."

"I doubt it. Bring up your hyperspace navigational charts, I'd like to see where you've been."

The captain grimaces and looks over at one of the consoles.

"Well, you see..."

Elohirnok steps in closer and forces the captain to meet his intense stare,

"They're gone, aren't they? Deleted."

The captain swallows and opens his mouth to speak, but one of his crew blurts out,

"It's my fault. I wiped the navicomputer when we were first boarded."

Elohirnok looks over the captain's shoulder at the speaker.

"And why would you do such a thing?"

The captain takes a deep breath and wipes his palms on the front of his jacket.

"You see, ah... sir. We thought perhaps you were pirates, or other prospectors. It's a dangerous business, and our navigational data is extremely valuable. It's our livelihood, you see."

Elohirnok steps back and holsters his pistol. He looks the captain over before waving the Jedi over to him. He pulls Sventrare close and whispers into his ear,

"You can tell when someone's lying, right? One of your Jedi tricks?"

"For the most part, Lieutenant. The captain is difficult to read, though. His mind is cluttered with conflicting emotions right now."

Elohirnok nods slowly and looks at Haytham, who lifts his shoulders slightly and tilts his head.

"Lieutenant, these men are as suspicious as they are guilty. I sense considerable fear and anxiety, they must be hiding something from us."

The captain takes a few tentative steps towards them before Elohirnok places one hand on his sidearm and holds up his other palm.

"That's far enough, captain. You have some explaining to do"

"Please, nothing we have done is illegal."

"Captain, your ship made an unauthorized hyperspace jump into a restricted sector of the Coruscant system. You are carrying high grade scanning equipment, and were within range of several Alliance drydocks."

"We didn't know, we're salvagers..."

"That's not all, captain! You wiped your navicomputer, your communications arrays are encrypted, and you launched a pair of fighters at my ship when it approached you."

"Those fighters are our only protection from pirates, sir. Please, you have to listen to me!"

Sventrare kneads his eyebrows together and watches the captain carefully while Elohirnok raises his voice,

"That's enough out of you! You're a traitor and a spy! This vessel was conducting scans of sensitive Alliance facilities. Who were you going to transmit that data to?"

The captain raises his hands and looks desperately to the two Jedi,

"You have to understand, we were only scanning the wreckage out here. Please, Master Jedi, you know I'm telling the truth."

Haytham looks disgusted.

"I've heard all the grovelling I want out of you, captain. Just come clean with LT Halal here and it'll go much easier on you."

Captain Tanahka's face sinks, and his shoulders hunch together slightly.

"You won't find any of that data on our computers, sir."

Elohirnok throws his hands up.

"Well, that's just very convenient for you, isn't it? I'll bet that data got deleted right when we came aboard. Or was it a miraculous accident, captain?"

Sventrare leans towards Elohirnok and intones,

"Perhaps it would be best to finish our sweep of the ship and take the crew into custody. Intelligence can finish debriefing them and go over their computers in greater detail."

Elohirnok stifles his anger and nods his consent. They move the prisoners to one side of the bridge while Haytham goes to check in with Thrash and the assassin in the engine room.

… CHAPTER TWO ...

A grey-hulled Star Destroyer, the _Advent Dawn_, prowls the depths of space. Every four hours, on the hour, it makes a random hyperspace jump. This ship is the heart of Alliance intelligence, and only the most trusted operatives are given the coordinates of the ship. The hanger bays have been expanded to accomodate larger vessels, and the ship's weapons and support systems have been trimmed down to allow for additional crew quarters and onboard training facilities. Thousands of analysts, field operatives, and intelligence officers of the Galactic Alliance work around the clock, and the ship's passageways are always bustling.

Special Missions Team 17 is assembled in a narrow briefing room. Elohirnok, Thrash, and the assassin are seated on one side of a low, brushed durasteel table. Opposite them are the Jedi, Sventrare and Haytham.

Thrash is eager, and musing about their assignment to Elohirnok.

"Where do you think we're headed, LT? I'd kill for job on Naboo."

"Honestly, Sergeant, I'd prefer to just track these terrorists down as quickly as possible and put in for some leave."

Sventrare leans forward,

"Lieutenant Halal, what makes you so certain that the men we're after are the terrorists from Coruscant?"

Elohirnok gives Sventrare a flat look.

"Please. After the comms specialist on the _Baelamon Pearl _turned out to be a CorSec intelligence officer? Those guys were clearly working with this secessionist wing, the same group that carried out that recent bombing near the Senate building."

Sventrare looks thoughtful, considering. Haytham turns towards Thrash,

"Tell me, aren't you from Corellia?"

Thrash leans forward, gripping the edge of the table.

"So? I've been on our side since I was sixteen. Hell, when I joined up it was with the New Republic Marines. Yeah, I was born on Corellia. So was General Antilles, and General Solo. What of it?"

Elohirnok rests his elbow on the table and lowers his forehead into his palm.

"No one is questioning your unflinching devotion to liberty and freedom, Sergeant Ordo. Relax."

Thrash looks back and forth briefly from Elohirnok to Haytham before responding,

"Well, yeah. Still, leave Corellia out of this, old man."

Haytham gives Elohirnok an exasperated look and settles into his chair, folding his hands in front of himself. The assassin reaches inside his jacket and takes out a small datapad. He examines it for a moment, manipulating the controls briefly before replacing it in his pocket. He addresses no one in particular,

"The briefing should begin momentarily. Colonel Raven is rarely late."

Almost on cue, the door opens and Colonel Raven enters. He is a square faced man with slender shoulders and a sharply receding hairline, dressed in a white Alliance military uniform with a grey field jacket pulled over. Everyone seated at the table stands, except the assassin. The Jedi rise and incline their heads respectfully while Elohirnok and Thrash snap to attention. The newcomer speaks softly,

"At ease, everyone. No need for formalities here."

He waves for them to be seated before continuing,

"You did excellent work out there earlier. My people are still combing through the ship's records for any other information, but the crew have proved very useful despite their silence. We're putting together what we can on them, and the picture that is emerging is both disturbing and informative."

Colonel Raven clasps his hands behind his back and pauses thoughtfully. He looks at Haytham and says,

"Master Kenway, how far does the Jedi Order's jurisdiction extend in this matter?"

Haytham tilts his head and smiles,

"Colonel, you honor me, but I'm merely a Jedi Knight. Grand Master Skywalker has not seen fit to bestow the rank of Master upon me. As for our jurisdiction here, Sventrare and I have been attached to Alliance Intelligence for the duration of the crisis, or until the Order recalls us. We are at your disposal, and will make every effort to bring these terrorists to justice."

Colonel Raven nods curtly and turns his attention to the entire group,

"Excellent. On your next assignment you will be acting in a somewhat... informal capacity, albeit with the full authority of Alliance Intelligence and the Jedi Order."

Elohirnok draws his eyebrows together and looks questioningly at the colonel,

"What exactly do you mean, sir?"

"You'll be travelling to Corellia. Your objective is to make contact with an individual there who has information pertaining to the funding of this terrorist organization. I believe that the sponsors of the espionage mission you intercepted are the same people who are funneling weapons to the rebels on Coruscant. Our source on Corellia says he can prove it, and has sensitive data which we need to recover."

Haytham glances over at Thrash and catches his eye before turning to Colonel Raven,

"Most interesting, Colonel. I gather that relations between Corellia and Coruscant are rather tense at the moment?"

Thrash grimaces.

"Hey now, no one said that _Corellia _supports the insurgents. It's probably some disgruntled noble or someone making a scene."

Elohirnok says flatly,

"I'm sure that's the case."

Thrash becomes defensive and opens his mouth, but Colonel Raven intervenes,

"Regardless, gentlemen, your mission is to extract our source and his data. I have a ship standing by to take you to Corellia, you'll travel as mercenaries and stay under the radar. I've arranged a security contract in Coronet City, you'll operate under the pretense of establishing security for a construction site near one of my safe houses. Your employer will give you the details when you're planetside. Any questions?"

The assassin rolls his shoulders back and stretches out his neck,

"Colonel, why the hot escort? Will things get exciting?"

Sventrare looks concerned,

"I hope not. That could only worsen the diplomatic situation with Corellia."

Colonel Raven leans forward and places his palms down on the table,

"Listen very closely. I don't personally care who you have to maim or eliminate quietly so long as we get our hands on that data."

He closes his eyes briefly and then looks Elohirnok and Haytham in the eye, carefully.

"If the insurgents continue with their attacks on Coruscant much longer, many more systems are going to question the capability of the Alliance government. The core worlds are already outraged at the reconstruction taxes, and a few bodies on Corellia is nothing compared to the crisis that could develop if we don't get this situation under control immediately. That being said, I expect you to use the utmost discretion in this matter. Your ship is in Hanger charlie-fourteen. It departs in thirty minutes."

He turns around and briskly walks out the door.

…

On a thick, circular landing pad in a forest clearing, a large shuttle closes its rear doors and prepares for takeoff. Several bipedal industrial loading droids pick up heavy cargo crates and carry them off the landing pad, stacking them on flatbed carriers waiting near the bottom of a ramp that leads down from the pad's surface.

Nearby, three heavy turbolaser turrets jut above the treetops, aiming towards the sky. They are housed in squat permacrete towers, which are square with rounded corners and a small catwalk running around the edge to grant access to the towers' interiors. The towers are spaced out in a semicircle around the landing pad. Opposite the towers, on the other side of the large landing pad, is a sheer cliff that plummets into darkness hundreds of feet below and stretches out along the edge of the forest for miles.

The flatbed carriers, driven by repulsorlifts, move off along a path of grass that has been beaten down by repeated trips back and forth from the landing pad. The dim red running lights along the edges of the carriers cast their glow on several assault droids patrolling the grounds near the landing pad. The carriers swing around towards a darkened hole in the ground, where a sloping ramp leads down below the earth to a set of heavy blast doors. As the carriers descend, the doors grind open with a heavy mechanical sound and the red lights of the carriers cast long shadows behind them as they disappear underground.

…

Icy winds howl outside the mouth of a narrow cave, peeling away the snow and casting it off into the white depths of the blizzard. Streaks of powdery white snow have spilled inside the floor of the cave, casting a crude archway. The walls of the cave are sea-green ice, worn smooth by time. After a hundred feet or so, the cave opens up into a larger cavern. Here the ceiling is perhaps forty feet from the floor, and durasteel scaffolding has been erected against the walls.

Crates and containers are stacked neatly near the edges of the cavern. A number of side chambers have been carved into the walls, the size of a modest bedroom. Each chamber has a single sleeping mat, a durasteel footlocker, and a shelf cut into the ice that runs around the three interior walls at eye level.

In the center of this wide cavern is a smooth circle marked out with green luminescent cord on the ground. Two men, bare to the chest and wearing soft soled boots and loose black pants, face each other at a distance of two meters. One man, whose head is shaved, has hard, bundled muscles and is covered in intricate tattoos. The tattoos are a mix of red and black, geometric shapes intertwined along his arms and torso. The other man, clearly ten years his junior, has his black hair drawn back into a short ponytail. He is leaner than than the older man, his skin stretched tighter over his ribs and back.

The tattooed man is unarmed, and his hands are relaxed at his sides. His posture is loose, with his feet planted beneath his shoulders. The younger man is the picture of concentration, his eyes locked on his quarry. He holds a long, thin durasteel rod by the middle, wielding it like a quarterstaff.

A short distance outside the circle, a smaller figure sits cross legged on the icy floor, shrouded in a thick brown robe with the hood pulled up. A pair of blue lekkus protrude slightly from underneath the hood. The figure raises a gloved hand and holds it up for a moment before bringing it down sharply.

The young man explodes forward, striking at the tattooed man with both ends of the durasteel rod in a flurry of blows. The tattoed man slides from side to side, narrowly avoiding each blow. The young man pushes the offensive, driving the tattoed man back. They circle steadily around the inside of the luminous ring. The young man's arms are a blur of motion, striking at his enemy's head, ribs, legs, and head again, a spinning sequence of alternating attacks with each end of the staff.

The tattooed man moves fluidly, always stepping back just enough to avoid the younger man's attacks. His head and shoulders seem to slide miraculuously around the ends of the durasteel rod as it whips through the air, and the tip of the staff always strikes the ground a heartbeat after the tattooed man has moved his foot back, kicking up glistening crystals of ice.

The hooded figure turns its head slightly to track the pair as they shift around the circle. As they come near to completing a full revolution, the younger man overcommits to one of his strikes, lunging just a few inches too far.

The tattooed man steps aside and snaps out with a sharp kick to the younger man's knee, which pops loudly. As the young man collapses, he twists and rolls forward, tucking his staff underneath him. The tattooed man moves with him, and as the young man comes to his feet, the tattooed man has gotten behind him.

The young man staggers slightly as he tries to regain his footing, and realizes he can no longer see his enemy. His eyes widen for a moment before the tattooed man seizes his head with both hands and jerks sharply to the side, pulling the younger man's chin back and forcing it to the side.

With a sickening crunch, the younger man spasms briefly before the tattooed man lets him drop to the ice, where he sprawls unnaturally. The tattooed man looks at the hooded figure and shakes his head.

"This one showed such promise. So quick, so sure... and yet..."

The hooded figure merely stands, and beckons for the tattooed man to follow. Together, they walk back towards the mouth of the cave where the ferocious winds still howl.

...

Haytham and Sventrare sit in the cargo hold of a chartered freighter. Sventrare wears the traditional pleated garments of a Jedi Knight, colored in light brown, while Haytham prefers a simple vest and loose fitting shirt. They are both wearing leather boots that lace up almost to the knee, and thin utility belts with simple grey durasteel clasps.

The Jedi are facing each other, from opposite sides of the cargo hold. Haytham kneels with his head bowed, and his hands rest on the floor, palms down. Sventrare sits cross legged, palms pressed together in front of his chest. Each is deep in meditation with the Force, although they meditate about considerably different aspects of the Force.

Haytham seeks knowledge of the insurgents on Coruscant, furious that their attacks continue to go unchecked. Through the currents of the Force, he grasps for any hint of their whereabouts, any trace they may have left in the Force with their violent attacks.

Sventrare seeks inner calm. He is filled with concern about overzealousness in the hunt for the insurgents and attempts to let the Force flow into him, to guide him towards a correct decision. Many possibilities, brief glimpses of people and ships, planets and storms flicker through his mind. He sees fire and hears the roar of engines, then the calm emptiness of the hyperspace lanes. But he does not find the answers he seeks.

… CHAPTER THREE ...

"They're like gizka, but with rocket launchers."

Elohirnok laughs out loud and turns to face Thrash.

"What?!"

Thrash smiles modestly for a moment and continues.

"Those guys on Coruscant, the terrorists. They're like gizka, no matter how hard you stomp on them they always wriggle through the deck plates and pop back up in a different place. Oh, and the bit about the high explosives."

Elohirnok shakes his head and chuckles quietly, turning back to the datapad in his hands.

"You're something else, sergeant. Heh, gizka..."

He trails off, immersing himself once more in the display in front of him, poring over intelligence reports on various Corellian nobles and important government officials. Halfway through the trip to Corellia, he had finished memorizing the geography of Coronet City and the orbital patterns and periods of the major space stations and shipyards above the planet. From there he moved onto politics and legal quirks, making note of Thracken Sal-Solo's political resilience as well as the vagaries of starship licensing and manufacturer's permits on Corellia. At this point, Elohirnok was beginning to think he would have time for a brief look at the history of immigration and aliens' rights before they reached the planet.

Thrash watched the lieutenant speed through his reading, hand flickering back and forth on the datapad screen as he made notes on this or that detail. Thrash marvelled at Elohirnok's single minded dedication to the task. After a few moments, he turned back to the armorer's bench in front of him.

Three blaster rifles had been disassembled on the table, and Thrash had various tools laid out along the edge of the table to assist him in fine tuning the weapons. He carefully picked up the trigger assembly of one rifle, noting the weight of the pull and a slight hiccup where the durasteel seemed to have been nicked inside the trigger guard.

Filing the surface smooth, Thrash set the assembly down and began checking the various welds and joinings of that rifle's charging chamber. He found a few places where repeated firing had caused the chamber to heat up and soften the joints, so he made a note to strip and rebuild that chamber before setting it aside on a separate table.

Before Thrash can finish with his inventory, the assassin appears in the doorway holding a long sniper's rifle. He steps forward and looks down at the armorer's bench, considering Thrash's handiwork for a moment before speaking.

"You seem to know what you're doing there."

Thrash looks up, surprised, and sees the assassin. He tenses briefly, but then looks back at the bench surface and pushes a few spare parts around.

"Well, yeah, I do this a lot."

The assassin holds out the rifle. It has a roughly triangular casing around the barrel, which feeds into a slender housing above the trigger assembly. There is a mount for a scope, but it appears to have been removed.

"Could you look at this? I tried to figure it out myself, but it's too delicate."

Thrash peers at the rifle and reaches out.

"May I?"

"Certainly."

The assassin passes the rifle over the bench to Thrash, who takes it and weighs it in his hands, turning it over.

"What, ah, what exactly is wrong with it?" He says, looking up.

"It's not delivering adequate power on longer range shots. I'm afraid the focusing crystal is out of phase with the amplifier, but I didn't have the tools to take her apart and see."

Thrash bites his lower lip and looks slowly over the rifle's housing, running his hands across the assembly.

"Yikes, this really is a beauty. It'll take some time, but I can crack her open and figure it out."

"Thank you, sergeant. Please alert me when you finish."

The assassin turns and glides back out of the hold, vanishing down the passageway outside.

Elohirnok, without looking up from his datapad, slides his disruptor pistol back into its holster on his thigh.

"That guy is a killing spree waiting to happen. I don't know who or what or how he even..."

Thrash glances back at the doorway and then points to the overhead,

"Shhh, he might be hiding in the air ducts."

Elohirnok rolls his eyes.

"You don't have to worry, you're fixing his favorite toy for him. It'll be like Life Day on Malachor when he gets that back."

…

Jedi Master Zhayne flew through the air, propelled by his force leap. Corran Horn, a fellow council member, twisted in the air to stay upright as the two Jedi sped towards each other.

Each held a lightsaber, but had not yet ignited it. A fraction of a second before they collided, both masters ignited their sabers and struck at each other. Corran and Zhayne each swung while turning slightly in the air, and neither scored a hit. They flew past each other and deactivated their lightsabers just before landing on the ground, now opposite each other in a small courtyard in the Jedi academy on Ossus.

Heavy stone blocks of tremendous size made up the floor and walls of the courtyard, with a single doorway leading into the interior of the academy. Near the doorway, a small gathering of students watched the two masters.

Corran turned around and faced Zhayne, his expression was one of wry amusement.

"Another draw. How disappointing."

Zhayne smiled easily and spread his arms out to either side.

"I'm just trying not to embarass you in front of the young learners, Master Horn."

Corran turned back and faced the students.

"This drill is the Twin Suns. As you saw, it's quite difficult and can be very dangerous. You will practice it without lightsabers for a long time before you're allowed to perform what Master Zhayne and I just did."

Zhayne strode over and stood beside Corran.

"For starters, you'll break off into pairs and practice leaping and passing each other in the air. Once you have that down, start trying to land a punch of kick while you pass without getting hit yourself. This exercise hones your physical abilities as well as your ability to sense, through the Force, the immediate future. Only by relaxing and allowing the Force to guide your movements can you avoid your opponent while also striking him."

The students nodded their understanding, some more emphatically than others, before beginning to line up along opposite sides of the courtyard to practice.

Corran and Zhayne stood aside, near the doorway, and watched the students stumble through the first steps of the exercise. Corran spoke quietly,

"It's good to see you back, Erit. You're a great help around the academy."

Zhayne nods and stretches his back,

"I'm glad to come home. I've been away much too long."

"You trained quite the apprentice while you were in the Outer Rim. Sventrare Dermo is one of our most promising young Knights."

"He's a good kid, and has an understanding of peace beyond his years."

"It's a good thing he's so gentle natured, I'd hate to see him angry. I'd put good money on him in a pit fight with a gundark."

"Sometimes I do worry that he doesn't realize quite how dangerous he's become. I don't think he's ever been pushed into a deadly confrontation. He's quite overpowering when he duels. Most people either give up, or else he disarms them in a hurry. He could probably spar with most of the masters and keep up."

Corran laughed slightly,

"I fail to see how that's a problem. He has a good head on his shoulders, and knows when to negotiate and when to fight."

Zhayne folded his arms and kneaded his eyebrows together.

"There's just something... something dangerous in that boy's future. I can't shake the premonition that he's... cornered somehow. Being gripped in a vice."

Corran turned towards Zhayne and put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Have you spoken to Grand Master Skywalker? I'm sure he can help you interpret this premonition."

"I spoke with him yesterday, when I first had this feeling. He thinks it has to do with the mission Sven is on, working for Alliance Intelligence."

"Has he contacted you lately?"

"Not in some time, he's been in and out of hyperspace constantly, chasing shadows."

"Try reaching him through the Force, old friend, and keep trying. I don't like the sound of this premonition."

...

Nar Shaddaa was a broken ruin. The Vong had bombarded and partially terraformed the planet, obliterating most of the surface city. What was left lay in a jumbled mess, scorched and crushed together in a desolate maze.

Kael Orven was quivering, drenched in sweat, and scarcely able to breathe. Straining to maintain his focus, he felt as though the veins in his eyes might burst, or his lungs tear in half from the exertion.

A huge mass of twisted durasteel, entwined in the permacrete wreckage of a collapsed building, shifted slightly. With a shrieking scream of metal sliding and bending, the huge mass began to pull towards Kael. He slipped to his knees and his head snapped forward, chin bouncing off his chest, but Kael continued to hold on.

Slowly, the mass of durasteel floated up several feet off the ground and pulled free of the building wreckage. It drifted across the ground and onto a large repulsorlift transport's cargo bed, where numerous other pieces of metal wreckage were stacked.

The mass of metal slammed down onto the pile of scrap and Kael exhaled sharply, and slumped back onto his heels. All around him, men and women wearing protective suits and carrying fusion cutters and other tools moved forward towards the building he had pulled the mass from. They would go to work, disecting the smaller pieces and salvaging what they could now that he had extracted the unstable portions of the building.

Kayta, a young woman with short hair, the hood of her work suit pulled back, walked up behind Kael.

"You look pretty worn out, let me get you onto a shuttle back to the camp."

Kael turned towards her and put his hands down on the ground to steady himself.

"No, it's alright. We've still got a few hours of daylight down here."

The sun's rays slid between the skeletons of the ruined skyscrapers and bounced off the reflective metal surfaces where winds had stripped away the dust that lay thick on the ground everywhere on Nar Shaddaa.

Kayta raised a hand to shield her eyes and looked out towards the reddening sky that was partially visible through the ruins.

"Maybe an hour, not much more. Come on, you're so tired you'll probably drop the next piece on yourself. Fat lot of good you'll be then."

"Maybe I'll drop it on you, then. Stop you from bossing me around so much." Kael said as he struggled to get to his feet. He got a few inches off the ground before his legs buckled and he sprawled out backwards.

He swore and extended his hand towards Kayta.

"You win."

She laughed softly and took his hand, leaning back and pulling Kael onto his feet.

"Kael, it's a good thing you're so light or this would start to get difficult."

Keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him, they walked towards an orange painted airspeeder a short distance away.

As the two approach the speeder, a young boy, perhaps twelve years old, ran up. He had an uneven thicket of brown hair sprouting from his head, and was wearing loose, oversized coveralls stained with grease and engine oil.

Looking up at Kael, he reached out with a small, circular holocommunicator.

"Kael, Verrick said to give this to you right as soon as you got done working today. Are you tired?"

Kael took the holocommunicator and shifted his weight to lean slightly against Kayta.

"Yes, I guess I'm pretty tired."

The boy nodded understandingly and said, "I'm tired too, I've been taking apart five different generators at once! You should take a nap, I took one yesterday and I wasn't tired at all until really late."

Kael looked sideways at Kayta and suppressed a smile, "I'll try to take a nap, but I might not get to sleep until really late either."

Kayta returned the look and smiled. The boy said, "Ok, Kael! I have to go back now, I'll see you tomorrow!" And ran off the way he came.

Kael held up the holocommunicator and shouted after him, "Not so fast! What's this for?"

The boy slid to a halt and turned around, "Oh, I forgot! You're supposed to call Chorba about something, but I can't remember if Verrick told me what it was. I gotta go, I have to put the generators back together!" Before Kael could say anything else, the boy darted around a corner and vanished down a passage between two ruined buildings.

Kayta reached over and brushed Kael's hair off his forehead, keeping her other arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"What do you think Chorba wants now?"

Kael yawned deeply, stretching his neck as he did so.

"I have no idea. Maybe he finally got those construction droids I've been hounding him about." Kael examined the holocommunicator and pressed several buttons on the bottom of the device before holding it out in front of him while it connected to Chorba's private line.

In a moment, a shimmering blue image of a Hutt appeared. Chorba was small by Huttese standards, with only a few rolls of fat on his frame. His black eyes were like dinner plates, though, and his skin was covered in scars from an unexplained incident which had clearly involved a flamer.

Kael forced a smile that was wider than he would usually have been comfortable with, and said, "Chorba, you're looking as healthy as ever. Verrick sent a messenger, but the fool kid forgot the message. How can I help you?"

Chorba gave a deep laugh from his belly, his fat jiggling. He responded in lilting Huttese,

"Kael, surely you have a guess or two? You're such a smart boy."

Kael bowed his head and answered, "Chorba, you flatter me, but this time I'm stumped. Perhaps you finally got our droids from that conniving little Jawa, what was his name?"

Chorba growled angrily, "Weekchaka, that dry skinned desert rat! No, he will not sell the droids at my price."

Kayta squeezed Kael's shoulders and looked at him questioningly. Sparing another sidelong glance at her, Kael continued to Chorba, "You're most persuasive, Chorba, he'll sell."

"That small eyed womp rat thinks he's the only vendor for KTS droids? I will break him. But first, Kael, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Chorba. Tell me what you need."

"That's what I like to hear," Chorba intoned, "I have an X-Wing here which I prepared for you. Take it and travel to a meeting I have arranged near Ord Mantell. You will find the coordinates programmed into the astromech unit."

Kael blinked in surprise.

"Chorba, I thought you needed me here for the reconstruction."

Chorba laughed darkly, "Kael I don't need you here. You want to be here. But I require a capable representative, and more importantly, a human at this meeting."

Kael's face darkened, "There are plenty of humans working for you, Chorba. What's so important about this meeting?"

Chorba's eyes grew narrower, "You will know that when it is time for you to find out such things, smoothskin. Don't try and become impetuous with me. You are valuable, but do not forget your place."

Chorba turned his head towards Kayta for a moment and then looked back at Kael.

"Your woman will be safe here, and if you return successfully from this meeting, I'm sure the jawa will have brought his prices down in the meantime. If you don't leave by tomorrow morning, I am afraid you will be late, and that would be unfortunate for both of you."

The connection cut out and Chorba's blue image vanished. Kael's fingers closed tightly around the holocommunicator and his teeth clenched together. The metal in his hand crumpled and began to fold in on itself.

Kayta ran her hand across Kael's shoulder and turned him towards her.

"It's fine, Kael. I'm sure this won't take long."

"I don't care about the meeting, I'll go. It's the droids that are making me angry. Chorba was supposed to have them here a week ago!"

Kayta nodded and tried to smile, "I know, but he's done a lot to help us here. He sends supplies and his guards have kept the Exchange from causing us trouble."

Kael threw the crushed lump of metal to the ground and kicked it.

"That's another thing! He keeps insinuating that his guards are valuable, that he has to pay them, too. But the scrap we send him is worth enough to buy a small army! He gets greedier with every shipment, if he won't purchase those droids maybe the Exchange would be interested."

"Kael! Don't say that. Chorba's a fat, credit grubbing slimeball, but he's not the Exchange. The worst Chorba gets is a few Twi'lek dancers he'll sell, or apprentice some of the orphaned kids to the Merchant Guild."

Kael sighed and closed his eyes.

"I know, I know. I'm just tired of him jerking us around."

Kayta didn't reply, but pulled Kael towards him and rested her head on his chest. After a moment Kael stepped back slightly.

"Let's go back, we can get Tomas to drop off us early as long as he can get the shuttle back here in time for the work crews."

"Alright, let's do that."

Together, they climbed into the airspeeder.

… CHAPTER FOUR ...

The skies above Corellia are a kaleidascope of metal. Orbital stations and docking rings spin between zero gravity factories and manufacturing plants. Freighters and transports of every shape and size imaginable slip between the stations to shave time off their flights, and CorSec authorities do their best to monitor all the traffic.

One transport flies along the designated spacelanes, her pilot taking care to check in with the appropriate authorities and obtaining proper clearance to land. He wants no trouble with the authorities and is polite and cooperative.

Elohirnok and Haytham stand behind the pilot while he chats amiably with the Corellian authorities, assuring them that his passengers have work on the planet and won't cause any headaches.

Once they've been cleared to land, the transport begins to descend to Coronet City, the capital of Corellia. Inside the transport, Elohirnok gathers the team together in the mess hall. A number of tables are secured to the deck, with benches on both sides and a windowed counter that connects to the galley where the ship's cook had prepared meals of questionable quality during the voyage.

They check their gear and pack lightly, each person carrying a backpack only. The Jedi have dressed in rough coveralls and light combat vests, concealing their lightsabers. Sventrare has torn the sleeves off his shirt, showing his four enormous green arms. Thrash seals up his bag and props a blaster rifle next to it before sauntering up to the Codru-Ji.

He has a devious grin when he asks, "Hey, Sven, what do you say you and me arm wrestle?"

Sventrare smiles slowly, raising his arms and turning his hands in the air.

"Which arm would you prefer me to use, Sergeant Ordo?"

Thrash, still bearing his maniacal grin, is about to answer when Elohirnok interrupts, "Sergeant, stop fooling around and go check with the pilot. Find out when we'll land."

Thrash grumbles and turns to Sventrare before he leaves, saying, "We'll come back to this, big guy. Trust me."

Sventrare nods and says, "Perhaps this is for the better, sergeant."

Elohirnok raises his hand when Thrash opens his mouth to shoot back, "Before you say whatever ridiculous thing you're thinking, double time it back to main deck and get me the ETA on that landing."

Thrash speeds out of the mess hall and up a ladderwell. Elohirnok watches him go and rests his hands on his hips, hooking his thumbs through his gunbelt. Sventrare smiles and turns back to his bag, where he is carefully arranging several datapads and folding up his tunic and trousers.

Haytham coughs deliberately and looks at Elohirnok. "You know he's going to get killed." He says.

Sventrare looks alarmed, "Haytham, what are you talking about?"

Haytham doesn't answer, but keeps looking at Elohirnok until he gets a response.

Elohirnok sighs reluctantly, "He lived through enough of the Vong wars, Jedi. He's not nearly as clueless as he looks."

Haytham's face softens for a moment and his mouth twists slightly to the side.

"I've seen too many young men like that. He's lucky to have lived this long, but he won't get out of the line of fire in time. They never do. It makes little difference if he dies tomorrow or a year from now, he'll keep pushing until his luck runs out."

Sventrare folds his arms together and sits down on a tabletop, musing, "He might call it luck, but it's the Force, Haytham. He has some potential, I've felt his connection when he fights. Perhaps we could bring him in for training, once this crisis has passed."

Elohirnok walks over to the doorway, but hesitates near the exit, watching the two Jedi. Haytham shakes his head sorrowfully, "No, lad. Once this is over, there'll be another mission, another crisis. There always is, and men like Sergeant Ordo will find them."

Raising his eyebrows, Elohirnok allows some sarcasm to slip into his voice, "I'm afraid I slept through philosophy class, so I'm going to excuse myself and make sure that our beloved Sergeant Ordo hasn't fallen down a well."

…

In one of the many spaceports in Coronet City, people crowd into lines to get on and off the planet. Security is light on Corellia, although CorSec maintains a constant presence around the spaceport to discourage the rougher sorts from raising any kind of commotion.

The Alliance intelligence team is met outside the spaceport by a short man wearing an expensive suit. His shoes are immaculate and he has combed his hair back against his scalp. He smiles exuberantly and waves them over.

The assassin mutters, "This one could charm sarlaacs out of the sand."

Elohirnok shoots him a terse look, "You'll find out if you don't be quiet. Play nice."

The assassin looks blankly at Elohirnok for a moment then refocuses his attention, appearing to look around randomly with his eyes. Sventrare watches him carefully.

The short man introduces himself, "Welcome to Corellia, I'm Mr. Syklos. You're the security consultants my firm hired?"

Elohirnok nods, "Absolutely, sir. We're ready to start at once."

"Marvelous! Come right this way, my employers have graciously provided a speeder to take us directly to our offices.

…

Across the street from the spaceport, an Ithorian watches the odd assortment of mercenaries pile into an airspeeder, led by a greasy man in a suit.

As the speeder takes off, he makes a note of their descriptions into a small voice recorder attached near his collar and climbs into his own speeder.

He follows them across several districts, flying low to the rooftops of the city. The airspeeder executes several consecutive turns to shake potential tails. Rather than risk discovery, the Ithorian lets them go and changes course to visit a popular nightclub in one of the wealthier districts of the city.

At this hour, the club is closed, but the Ithorian locks the controls of his speeder and goes around the back of the building. He keys the intercom and in the thick tongue of the Ithorians says, "Vosh, you must come to the door and let me inside. The matter is urgent."

Vosh is a green skinned Twi'lek, with broad shoulders and sunken knuckles. His lekku are thick and have several criss crossed scars on them. He answers the door without a word and gestures the Ithorian inside.

As he climbs the steps to the upper floors of the club, where the owner keep his offices, the Ithorian notices Vosh following him several meters behind. He ignores the Twi'lek and finds the office he is looking for and knocks.

Blue Moon Mahryk answers the door. He is a bald human, with greying eyebrows and a slowly expanding waistline. His dark clothes are simple, but expensive. He walks back over to his desk and drops into the chair heavily.

"Lay it out for me. What's the report?"

The Ithorian pauses, composing himself and answers, "I bring you a matter of great importance, Master Mahryk."

"Was I unclear? Spit it out, I haven't got all day."

The Ithorian bows his head, "Apologies, Master Mahryk. I did not mean to offend your sensibilities, I merely wished to inform you that I have news you will not consider a waste of your valuable time."

Blue Moon Mahryk stares at him, opens his mouth to curse the Ithorian out, reconsiders and ends by snapping his jaw shut and waiting.

Oblivious, the Ithorian continues, "I have followed the Coruscanti spy as best I was able, and he has made many secret dealings. He is most elusive, however, and after he left the spaceport I was unable to preserve my secrecy. The Alliance has brought mercenaries to the planet, of this I am certain. I believe they mean to interfere with our operations."

Mahryk scratches his face, where black stubble has begun to grow. He nods, and dismisses the Ithorian. Vosh pokes his head in the door, "Everything ok up here, boss?"

"Yes, you dim-witted nerf herder. Go back downstairs and watch the door like I pay you too."

Vosh plods back down the stairs and Mahryk punches a key on his desk holocommunicator. A blue image of a pleasant looking young woman appears, dressed in business attire. She smiles at Mahryk, "Good morning Mr. Mahryk, is there something you need?"

Mahryk scowls at her, "Get me Del Versio, I need to talk."

The woman purses her lips and frowns, "Mr. Del Versio is in a meeting at the moment, shall I pass your message on to him?"

Cursing under his breath, Mahryk ponders his answer for a moment.

"Never mind, have him call me. It's urgent, and … it concerns our recent investments."

The woman's eyes widen slightly and she nods, "Very well, Mr. Mahryk. I will make sure to alert him."

The connection ends and Mahryk stands up awkwardly, pushing his chair back. He looks around his office and scowls at the clutter that has accumulated on various surfaces. Datapads and spare communicators, reports and estimates. Mahryk growls to himself, "I haven't beaten a punk bloody in far too long. That's what I need right now, a snot nosed punk trying to give us trouble on the streets. Something simple."

Mahryk taps several keys on his desk and makes another holocall. This time, it takes several minutes for anyone to answer. Finally, a groggy looking man answers. He has rough features and his hair is sticking every which way. He rubs his bleary eyes and yawns, "Ugh, Mahryk, what do you want at this hour?"

"We're civilized now, I expect to be able to reach you at this time, do you understand?"

The man nods reluctantly, "At least my paychecks are civilized now. I'll take that. What's it you need done?"

"Kill Tonnor. Find that rat and silence him before he squeals to anyone."

"I'll make it happen, Mahryk."

"Today. I'll make it worth your while, but you have to get to him fast."

A cold smile spreads across the man's face, "Civilized, eh? Times never change, do they?"

Mahryk terminates the call and picks up a handheld holocommunicator before storming out of his office. There was a lot to get done, and the situation wasn't getting any simpler. He just hoped whatever meeting his employer was in didn't take too long.

…

The safehouse maintained by Alliance intelligence in Coronet City was fronted by an art dealership. It was one of the more creative setups Elohirnok had seen since his days with Wraith Squadron. Most government espionage operations began to take on a dull similarity, but this cell appeared to have taken their cover very seriously, even going so far as to recruit an actual curator for their collection.

"The art actually makes a good financial cover, you know." Their contact explained as he led them inside.

"You can play with the numbers however you want and no one ever gets suspicious. It's kind of like portable wealth, but inconspicous, unlike spice or weapons. Our operations funds account really shows the difference."

Elohirnok was paying attention, but Thrash clearly did not care who paid for the weapons. The two Jedi were conversing quietly at the back of the group, while the assassin remained silent.

In the back rooms of the building, the real business of intelligence gathering went on. Several offices were dedicated to monitoring communications, and a number of assistants worked tirelessly to collect information.

The team was led into a small conference room, where they waited for a few moments before the door opened and a Bith walked in. He was dressed in loose, casual clothing, the kind a musician or artist might wear.

In his high, musical language he greeted them, "Hello, my mercenary adventurers. Are you ready to begin your work?"

Thrash spoke out first, "No, we came all the way just to see the sights. It was nice of you to have us, though."

The Bith made a soft whistling sound, which was thought to be laughter. Elohirnok spoke next, "Sir, we're prepared to move immediately. I understand we have an informant who needs to be extracted?"

"That's precisely it. He's a rather nervous fellow named Ran Tonnor, but he's promised to meet you at a small bar this afternoon, before most people in the city go out for dinner."

Haytham inquires, "What sort of informant is this man?"

The Bith places his fingertips together and tilts his head from side to side for a moment, "A very frightened one. He's been working for a dangerous man, from what I gather. The important thing is that he has the details of numerous accounts being used to fund the terrorists. We know that at least three CorSec officers are involved, but our informant promised that his information would implicate members at the head of the Corellian government."

Thrash chews his lip uncomfortably, "Ah, sir... what do you mean?"

The Bith answers him directly, "I've been finding growing evidence of a secessionist movement within the government here. Thracken Sal-Solo is the most outspoken, but by himself he is not enough to sway the planetary government, much less the system as a whole. We need to identify these members of the government and arrange for their arrest before the situation becomes untenable."

The room had grown very quiet, and Sventrare was the first to break the silence, "Where are we to meet our contact? I think it wise to do some preliminary scouting and make sure that we are prepared."

The Bith nods, "Of course, you may leave your things here, I have rooms prepared for you belowground. I'm leaving an airspeeder at your discretion, one of my pilots will give you a tour of the district you're to meet the informant in."

…

Deep in the empty space between planets, far off the main hyperspace routes, a large yacht hung against a starry backdrop. It was somewhere in the Mid Rim, judging by the shape of the galactic core from this vantage point.

The yacht was an elegant craft, with sweeping lines and smooth hull plates. Her engines glowed a gentle blue, pulsing softly. Nearby, a bright flash of light signalled the arrival of a vessel from hyperspace.

A single X-Wing dropped back into realspace and after a few minutes, hailed the yacht. After being directed to dock via the ventral hangar bay, the X-Wing flew underneath the large yacht and disappeared.

Kael Orven was no pilot, so he allowed his astromech droid to handle the finer points of landing the craft inside the smooth, white hangar bay. Climbing out and jumping down to the deck before the flight attendants could reach his X-Wing, he looked around.

Chorba hadn't told him much about the meeting until he was in hyperspace, when the droid had played back a recording from the Hutt, which told him to attend a meeting on this yacht and arrange to sell weapons to an anonymous party that had requested Chorba's services.

On the far side of the hangar bay, a smooth section of the bulkhead slid aside to reveal a hidden door, which opened and admitted a small group of men. Four were clearly guards, carrying blaster rifles and wearing combat armor under their jackets. The others were a collection of middle aged men, wearing various types of formal and professional attire. It looked like a convention of politicians or lawyers, which made Kael nervous.

He approached them, still wearing his flight suit, and waved.

One of the men stepped forward and offered his hand, which Kael shook. Inclining his head slightly, Kael said, "Chorba the Hutt extends his cordial greetings and best wishes, gentlemen."

They looked pleased to hear this, and the man who shook his hand said, "Thank you, I trust you had a safe journey here?"

Kael smiled thinly, "I'm no worse for the wear, but I understand you're in a hurry to sort out a deal with our mutual friend?"

"Yes, absolutely. If you wish, I can have someone show you to a guest room where you can freshen up. The accomodations are suitable for a friend of Chorba, I hope."

Kael suppressed a frown and considered the offer for a moment, as he was inclined to reject it and just get the meeting over with as quickly as possible. However, instead he said, "Gentlemen, your generosity will not go unnoticed. Please, lead the way."

So he was shown to a luxurious suite, with colorful hues patterning the floor and elegant plasteel furniture finished with exotic metals. An unidentifiable creature had provided a soft pelt to serve as a carpet, and the refresher was state of the art. Kael scrubbed down as quickly as he could, cleaned up his face, and changed into a fresh set of clothes. They were the best he owned, but they were definitely not considered fashionable.

When he was done, a very polite butler showed him to the meeting, which took place in a well furnished dining room. Almost a dozen place settings had been laid out, and the room was filling up quickly. Kael did not recognize anyone at the meeting, but the butler directed him to the seat at the foot of the table. In short order the only seat left open was the one at the head of the table.

Kael made empty conversation with the men nearest him, aside from a single twi'lek there were no aliens present. After several minutes, the butler reappeared and conferred with one of the older men, who sported a long, well-groomed white beard. A whispered conversation ensued and the butler left hurriedly. The man turned to Kael and said, "Mr. Orven, I'm afraid that one of our number was delayed on Corellia and will not be able to attend. Shall we proceed?"

Kael couldn't care less, so he said, "I understand completely, I trust you gentlemen are fully committed to the arrangements you wish to make with Chorba?"

He still wasn't sure what this was about, so he hoped that someone would eventually be forthcoming about these mysterious arrangements.

The whitebearded gentleman smiled congenially and said, "Or course we are. We have arrived at a joint agreement to purchase your employer's entire stock of weapons. His estimates of the armaments he could provide were adequate, but we are more interested in exploring options for procuring further weapons stores."

Kael stared flatly, holding his expression in check. Chorba was perhaps the preeminent weapons smuggler in the Outer Rim, and possibly one of the largest suppliers of questionably acquired ordnance in the galaxy. Thousands of clients purchased his goods, and his distribution network was as secret as it was elegantly simple.

Recovering, Kael smiled and leaned forward slightly, "I'm sorry, perhaps you could clarify. Which estimates are you referring to?"

One of the other men, a noble looking individual with short brown hair, spoke up, "Chorba generously supplied us with estimates of what he could supply to us at our original price agreements, but we realized that the scope of his operations, and the scope of our needs, were much larger than that."

Another man joined in, "Yes, we're prepared to sign an exclusive contract with Chorba at a very generous rate."

Kael ran a hand through his hair and breathed in slowly. He looked around the table and said, "You would like to purchase _all _of Chorba's existing inventory? Every stockpile?"

The bearded gentleman replied, "Every one. And all of the weapons he has to sell for the next year. We can renegotiate the contract at that time, if our needs are still that significant."

Kael was too stunned to even consider the absurdity of what he was doing. He continued, "This is an enormous purchase, Chorba prefers to spread his business throughout the galaxy, maintaining a low profile. What you are asking carries a hefty cost, and has to account for the risk this arrangement would carry."

The bearded man smiled magnanimously, "As we are well aware, Mr. Orven. Please believe me when I say that we will make this contract extremely lucrative for Chorba, well worth the potential risk."

The man paused and considered his next words carefully, "My... _compatriots _and I have set aside a significant war chest for this venture."

Kael frowned slowly and gave the men around the table a closer inspection. They seemed similar at first, but as he looked closely he saw that they wore several subtly differing styles of dress. The accents were also somewhat dissimilar. What he had taken for Coruscanti accents seemed to have slightly different inflections, perhaps from other Core Worlds.

He looked directly at the bearded man and asked carefully, "If I may, who exactly do you and your compatriots represent?"

Again, the man gave that broad, knowing smile, "Why, Mr. Orven, you have the distinction of meeting with the chief delegates of a like minded coalition. Men who love freedom, and the right to pursue independent commercial interests. We have taken to calling ourselves the Commonwealth of Planets, although it's not quite official at the moment."

Kael almost stood up and left, almost sprinted for his X-Wing, but he grabbed the edge of the table instead. Rooting himself to the spot, he answered, as pleasantly as he could manage, "In that case, gentlemen, why don't we discuss the details of this arrangement over dinner? I'm certain that Chorba's stockpiles can be made available for the right price."

… CHAPTER FIVE ...

In the forest clearing, near the landing pad, the sun's first rays twinkle through the treetops and dance across the lush green grashes that grow right up to the edge of the towers and landing pad. Along the treeline, sentries patrol wearily, nearing the end of their watches.

A slight tremble in the earth causes drops of dew to fall from the blades of grass near the landing pad and a mechanical thrumming is heard.

Underground, a whole complex has been hollowed out of the cliffside. The main chamber is a large trapezoidal room, through which an assembly line runs. Various machines and contraptions are lined up along the sides of the conveyor belt, with fusion cutters and arc welding tools sparking. A large central control panel is spread out in a semicircle at waist level in the middle of the room, with readouts and displays monitoring the status of each machine. A protocol droid and two slender humanoids with stark white hair stand behind the controls, carefully adjusting them.

A sooty technician, wearing a hard cover and goggles, walks quickly over to the central console waving a datapad.

"Doctor Jareel! Doctor!" He has to yell above the din of the machinery.

One of the humanoids turns, his shoulder length hair spinning. He has a gaunt face and white, pupilless eyes.

"Yes, supervisor?"

The technician points to the datapad as he gets closer, "There's a problem with the warhead precursor chemicals. I don't think that last batch synthesized properly, the concentrations are all off."

Doctor Jareel takes the datapad and examines it, paging through the results on the screen idly with his finger. His nostrils flare and he thrusts the datapad back at the technician.

"Idiot! You forgot to purge the compression chambers before introducing the catalyst, we'll have to shut the plant down and decontaminate before production can resume."

The technician winces, "Doctor, I think we can salvage this batch if we just rebalance the ratio of RU-7. I could-"

"-No! You are as pathetic as you are inept. It's too late for this batch, you cannot reverse the catalyzation process at this stage, fool."

Doctor Jareel turns to the other slender humanoid, who is a woman dressed in a green labcoat.

"I trust you can oversee the plant floor while I sort out this imbecile's mess?"

"Yes, Faro. Do you think we should overproduce missile casings for the time being, or wait until we're prepared to produce more warheads?"

Doctor Jareel pauses, thinking.

"We have excess storage space for the casings, and the chemical refinement can still be optimized. Go ahead with the manufacturing here, we should be able to minimize our losses that way."

He rounds on the technician now, his lips pulled tight with anger, "You, on the other hand, had best pray I can undo your childish blunderings in good order, or you will personally answer to our client."

…

The meeting place their contact had chosen was a renovated cantina, attempting to attract a more refined clientelle. The floor was polished permacrete, treated with an expensive resin. It was well lit without being obnoxiously bright, and there was a good mix of seats around the bar, tables that were small but not inconveniently so, and corner booths that allowed for discrete conversations.

In short, it was a nightmare for surveillance. The assassin couldn't see a single vantage point, nowhere that gave unobstructed views of both exits either. On top of that, there were no windows. He was fundamentally uncomfortable in this place.

Elohirnok grimaced when he saw the floor, and the attempts to create murals on the walls. He felt them pretentious, and distracting to boot. He and the assassin approached the bar and sat down, ordering jawa juice and the bartender's recommended side dish. They had chosen to enter the bar in two groups, and scope the place out before their appointed meeting time.

The assassin drank quickly, but didn't touch the food. He drained his glass and pushed it to the side, then sat carefully so his body faced the nearest door but he could still turn towards the bar. Elohirnok noted this and smiled, "What's your contingency plan if things get messy?"

The assassin didn't look at Elohirnok when he answered, instead keeping an eye on the bartender surreptitiously, "Kill my way to the door and vanish. Meet back up at the safe house."

They had opted to leave their weapons in the airspeeder, although Elohirnok had concealed a holdout blaster in his boot and was certain the assassin had done the same. He also wouldn't be surprised if the assassin was the type to have more knives than was strictly healthy on his person.

Nodding, Elohirnok drank slowly from his cup. Overwhelmed by curiosity, he finally spoke, "Alright, it's just us now. What the hell is your name?"

The assassin focuses his eyes on Elohirnok and asks, "Does it matter? Colonel Raven must have given you a dossier on me."

"He did, but the details were very scarce. All I have is your moniker."

At this the assassin smiles, "Ah, yes. Lachance..." He rolls the word over his tongue, appreciating it, "It's one of the better ones the Raven has given me."

Elohirnok shifts on his stool, "Look, Colonel Raven appears to trust you, to an extent. However, you make me nervous. I've seen a lot of headcases, and none of them turned out well. Are you just playing at this whole silent slaughterhouse act, or do I need to be worried?"

Lachance moves his hands quickly towards his pockets and Elohirnok stands up abruptly, stepping diagonally towards Lachance.

Smiling wickedly, Lachance places his hands innocently back on the bar, "Why spoil the fun, Lieutenant? We have such an enjoyable dynamic."

Glaring at him, Elohirnok sits back down, grumbling half to himself, "I shouldn't have to worry that my own guys is deranged."

"There's nothing to worry about, Lieutenant. I'm perfectly stable. After all, the Raven personally assigned me to this unit."

"So you see why I'm concerned," Elohirnok said dryly.

He finished his jawa juice and waved the bartender over, ordering a glass of famous Corellian brandy. He offered one to Lachance, who smiled tightly and declined the offer with a wave of his hand.

…

Jacen Solo cut an imposing figure in his new uniform. The armor of the Galactic Alliance Guard had been designed at his request, and he hoped it would soon become a symbol of the Alliance's strength in the face of the insurgent threat on Coruscant.

The chest piece consisted of five layered plates shaped like chevrons, point down. This was the most identifiable aspect of the armor, with similar plates protecting the thighs and back. Round, slender pauldrons covered his shoulders, and his boots were reinforced up up to the calf. The armor's plates were a dark grey, in part because the Guard would be working at night more often than not, and also to stand as a stark contrast to the notorious armor of the Imperial Stormtroopers.

Over his armor, Jacen wore a heavy brown Jedi robe. His dark hair fell almost to his shoulders, but his eyes bore an intense conviction. His stance was relaxed, but firm and self-sure.

He was waiting in the Crix Madine Military Reserve, on Coruscant, to meet with several generals and an intelligence colonel who said he had some important revelations about the insurgents.

Ben Skywalker, Jacen's cousin and almost fifteen years his junior, stepped out of a nearby turbolift. He wore only the simple robes of a Jedi Knight, but had recently adopted the close cropped haircut favored by the troopers of the Galactic Alliance Guard. Slightly hesitant, he approached Jacen and said, "Ah, colonel... Do you want me here for this meeting?"

Jacen smiled, "You don't have to call me that, Ben. Or should I say, lieutenant?"

Ben looked slightly abashed, but returned the smile, "If you take things that far, I have to use your rank."

"Then just address me as your teacher for now, we'll worry about the formalities of rank when we're out in the field."

"I'm looking forward to that!"

"Very good. I'm about to meet with one of the intel officers who might have some crucial information for us. Go and prepare your platoon for immediate action, in case we have to move quickly."

Ben flushes with pride and straightens his back, "Right away!"

He returns to the turbolift and is quickly carried off into the recesses of the military complex.

...

Haytham and Sventrare wait in the airspeeder while Thrash conducts a walkthrough of the nearby streets. They're parked out of the way, far enough off the ground not to obstruct the streets but still remain inconspicuous. Other vehicles pass them from time to time, but the streets below are fairly quiet for the time being.

The two Jedi strike a remarkable contrast. Haytham's grey hair is swept back neatly, and he mixes a traditional Jedi tunic with a formal vest and jacket. He prefers a crisp blue to the earthen tones of ordinary Jedi robes.

Sventrare looks oddly peaceful, given how his bulk fills the airspeeder. His features are always relaxed, while Haytham appears deliberately composed, almost regal. The Codru-Ji still wears the sleeveless shirt and mercenary attire he wore at the spaceport, which causes his serene expression to look almost comical by comparison.

Sventrare rouses from his introspections and addresses Haytham, "What you said about Sergeant Ordo this morning, why is that?"

Haytham's eyebrows rise up slightly and he considers his reply, "Sven, did you see much of the war?"

"Yes. Or rather, I saw its consequences. Master Zhayne preferred to avoid open battles and instead we tried to work towards discovering the causes of the conflict, and healing the wounds it inflicted."

"I see. I spent my youth in the Imperial Navy, and knew many career military men. The ones who lasted in infantry units were the jaded ones, it couldn't be helped. They learned survival the hard way. Thrash was very young when the wars broke out, and when he got around to fighting, he did so as a medic."

Sventrare leans back into his seat and folds his arms over his chest, "I'm not sure I see what you're saying. He has considerable experience in war."

Haytham answers sharply, but his tone softens as he explains, "That's the problem. He's an idealist, a hero. He sprints out under fire and pulls wounded men to safety. He keeps treating the injured long after they're certain to die. He'll keep popping his head up until it gets shot off."

"Isn't that what Jedi are called to do?"

"Yes, but we've got lightsabers and the Force to protect us. We can afford to be the guardian angels for others. Ordinary soldiers are the ones who bear the casualties when we fail."

Sventrare looks determined and says firmly, "Then he must be trained. Sergeant Ordo has the potential to become a Jedi, I'm sure I've felt it."

"Perhaps. I'm not so certain of that, but you are more sensitive to the nuances of the Force, Sven."

Smiling, Sventrare nods, "Thank you, Haytham. Master Zhayne said the same on many occasions, that I have an intuitive connection to the Force."

"I believe that is because you started your training so young, it's as much a part of you as your arms and legs."

Sventrare laughs a deep, strong laugh, "And you are different from that?"

Haytham turns in his seat and folds his ankle onto his knee, "Yes. For me, the Force is always an alien thing. I can feel it and manipulate it, but it requires concentration, just like solving mathematical equations or logical puzzles."

"Perhaps that is why they will not make you a master, yet. I'm sure that with time your connection will strengthen."

"It's not a matter of strength, Sven. I can match Master Solusar in manipulation of the Force, but the serene meditations elude me. I cannot move past the practical aspects of the Force, I don't see the guiding currents the Grand Master often speaks of."

Sventrare's emerald brow furrows, and he appears puzzled, "But you easily move in accordance with the Force when you fight. I've watched you spar and it's obvious that you can sense your opponent's movements."

"But I think that's simply precognition, the split second reflexes bestowed by the Force, manifesting subconsciously."

"I can see how you might end up in disagreement with some of the masters," Sventrare muses.

Haytham laughs, "And you wonder why they bundled me off to work with Alliance Intelligence so quickly."

Thrash walks back around the corner on the street below and waves to them. Haytham puts his foot back on the floor and taps Sventrare on the shoulder, pointing down at Thrash.

"Kid's back. Time to get to the rendezvous."

… CHAPTER SIX ...

Blue Moon Mahryk paces his office, waiting. He tugs at his collar, sweat soaking through the back of his shirt. Undoing the top button of his shirt, he walks over to the climate control unit and adjusts the temperature.

A gentle chime sounds from his desk and he lurches over, slapping the key to answer the call.

"Mahryk here."

A shimmering holo-image of a well groomed man, late in his middle years, with a fashionably short haircut appears. His face is a hard mask, his eyes stern and unforgiving. He speaks with a refined, crisp accent, "Mahryk, you said this was urgent."

It was not a question, but a demand. Mahryk swallowed and replied, "Yes, sir, it is. It's about Tonnor."

"I assumed as much. From the river you appear to have sweated, I take it he is still troubling us?"

"I sent my best man, sir. He hasn't reported in."

The man's eyes narrow, "How long ago?"

Mahryk wipes his hands on his jacket, trying to dry his palms, "Six, six and a half hours. We knew right where he was supposed to be."

"Apparently not. How much does he have on us?"

"Before he ran he grabbed almost the entire account summary."

The man snaps, "The CorSec account? That was encrypted."

"Oh yes, and it still is. He has it but I don't think he can do anything with it. But, the Alliance..."

"Obviously. Who are these mercenaries they've brought planetside?"

Mahryk regains some of his composure, and picks up a datapad from his desk.

"I have that right here, sir, shall I transmit it?"

"No, tell me what you have and erase the records."

"Of course, sir. It appears that they brought in two Jedi Knights and two former military personnel. One Jedi, the Codru-Ji, is a newly minted Knight, probably muscle on this job. The other is a hell of a character, my man dredged up service records from the Imperial Navy. Born on Bastion, I can't tell what his angle is."

"Your messenger mentioned five, who is the fifth?"

Mahryk grows silent, and looks over his shoulder quickly before responding, "I think it's one of the Hutt Blackknives from Tatooine. I saw him in Mos Eisley just before things got really bad."

The man frowns, and asks, "Are you certain?"

"Completely, sir. I couldn't forget those eyes, and my scouts got a solid recording of him going into the Alliance safehouse in the Ravina District."

The man curses, "Very well. I will tell you how to respond after I meet with some of our business partners. Send me a good runner and cease all sensitive transmissions. Stand by to purge all our on-site data."

Mahryk nods enthusiastically, "Right away."

The call is ended from the other side, and Mahryk realizes that his hands are shaking. He opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a short glass and bottle.

…

Inside the cantina, Elohirnok and the assassin make idle conversation with the patrons who have filtered in as the sun set outside. Across the room from them, Thrash, Sventrare, and Haytham have settled into a corner booth and ordered drinks. The room is about half filled, and the dull buzz of conversation competes with a small band playing at the back of the room.

Vosh, the broad shouldered, green skinned Twi'lek cautiously enters the cantina. He looks over the crowd carefully, and approaches the booth where Thrash, Sventrare, and Haytham are laughing over their drinks.

Elohirnok spots Vosh making for their booth and excuses himself from the bar, heading towards the refresher. The assassin looks at him questioningly, and Elohirnok tilts his head towards the booth. Immediately, the assassin follows Elohirnok to the refresher, which is located in a small room off the side of the main cantina.

Once he is inside, the assassin closes the door and pulls a small snub nosed blaster from inside his jacket.

"That's not our informant," He says sharply.

"I know that, wait outside and keep an eye out for an ambush. I'll signal you if we're leaving in a hurry."

The assassin nods, slips his hand into his pocket with the blaster, and walks quickly out of the refresher. Elohirnok follows him and returns to the bar, facing the corner booth and keeping one hand out of sight under the bar.

Over at the booth, Vosh sits down next to Thrash, who gives him a surprised look and says, "Excuse me, do I know you from somewhere?"

Haytham has reached inside his vest and grasped his lightsaber, while Sventrare unfolds his arms and leans towards Vosh.

Looking around quickly, Vosh places both his hands flat on the table and carefully speaks, "You two are the Jedi?"

Haytham keeps his face expressionless, but Sventrare's eyes widen in surprise. Thrash turns sideways in the booth and stares Vosh down, "Hey buddy, I don't know who you think you are, but you'd better explain yourself carefully."

Vosh nods, "You expected to meet with someone else, I understand. My employer is prepared to make you a better offer."

Haytham keeps his voice cool, "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Who is your employer?"

Vosh reaches slowly into his jacket and takes out a holocommunicator, placing it on the table. He stands up and straightens his jacket, "Give him a call. I'm just the messenger."

Elohirnok watches him leave before walking over to the booth. He sits down where Vosh had been a moment earlier and calls the assassin on his personal comm.

"Green twi'lek coming out now, bigger fellow. Don't lose him," He says rapidly.

Sventrare picks up the holocommunicator and turns it over, examining it.

"Do you think this is some sort of trap?" He asks.

Elohirnok shrugs, "What was that all about? Where is our guy Tonnor?"

…

Outside, Vosh heads across the street. On the corner, the assassin leans against a wall, looking at a datapad in his hand. His eyes follow Vosh as he slides away from the wall and moves after him, slipping the datapad into his jacket with one hand and reaching his other hand back into his pocket to grip his blaster.

The streets of Coronet City are a spider's web of interconnecting pathways; multi-layered and developed over centuries, there are large open avenues to permit airspeeder traffic and steep, twisting streets which are limited to travellers on foot. Vosh knows the streets well and he slips down an alleyway, glancing over his shoulder.

The assassin follows carefully at a distance and stops at the mouth of the alleyway, waiting a few moments before peeking around the corner. Vosh is just nearing the end of the alley, and the assassin ducks back out of sight. He counts slowly to ten before stepping quickly into the alley, hand still gripping his blaster inside his jacket.

The alley is empty, and the assassin sprints down it, covering the distance in seconds. At the end he pauses and steps quickly into the street on the other side, glancing to either side in case his quarry had laid a trap.

Vosh is oblivious, walking down this new street. The street is more open than the last one, but large groups of people are making their way about, enjoying the city's nightlife. The assassin gently pushes his way through the crowd, trying to keep Vosh in sight.

As he closes the distance again, the assassin looks ahead, trying to see where Vosh might be headed. The twi'lek is walking steadily, in no apparent rush. Frowning, the assassin continues to slide around the people in his way, moving in on Vosh.

They continue down this street and veer off to the left, going up a long curved ramp and into a large shopping center. Here the colorful lights and noise make it easy to go unnoticed, and the assassin has to keep a sharp eye out to maintain line of sight with Vosh.

Nearing an electronics shop, which proudly advertised the latest in holocommunication technology, Vosh turns and enters. The assassin loiters outside for a moment before choosing a shop across from it at random and walking in. Vosh turns around suddenly, and looks behind him.

The assassin snaps his head to the side and immediately occupies himself studying a display in front of him, which to his amusement turns out to be an assortment of jewelry catering to Rodians. The shop owner walks over and stands a short distance behind the assassin, saying, "Has something caught your eye, sir? We are actually having an incredible sale at the moment."

The assassin ignores him, trying to keep Vosh at the edge of his peripheral vision. The twi'lek has purchased something and is leaving the shop with a small metal case. Shaking his head at the shop owner, the assassin hurries out of the store and rejoins the crowds, trailing behind Vosh.

The chase leads the assassin out of the shopping center and into an upper class district of the city, where the buildings are taller and the streets polished durasteel with elaborate statues on every corner. Vosh makes a sudden right turn and the assassin sprints to the corner and looks around it, but Vosh is still walking casually along the street.

Taking a breath to steady himself, the assassin rounds the corner nonchalantly and threads his way through the various humans and aliens on the street. The crowds here are thinner and better dressed than near the cantina, and Vosh is easy to keep track of.

The assassin hangs back further, looking around and pretending to admire the architecture of the buildings, which rise up hundreds of feet into the air, glistening in the setting sun. Vosh makes another right down a side street, and the assassin quickens his pace and follows him.

When he rounds the corner, Vosh has taken out a communicator and is holding it to his ear as he walks. The assassin's eyes narrow and he continues with his brisk pace, rapidly approaching Vosh from behind.

Reaching the end of the side street, Vosh stops and stands still, finishing his call on the communicator. The assassin hangs back, looking for somewhere to hide. He spots a doorway and steps up to it, busying himself with the lock. Vosh looks around him, apparently waiting, but doesn't take notice of the assassin.

Stepping back from the door, the assassin glances at Vosh, who is now looking upwards, glancing around. Keeping a hand on his blaster, the assassin walks down the street towards Vosh and turns away from him when he gets back on the main boulevard.

A short distance away, the assassin pauses and turns around just in time to see an airspeeder touch down near Vosh. Cursing softly, the assassin starts walking towards the airspeeder. Vosh walks over to the airspeeder and passes the metal case through the front window and opens the side door.

Breaking into a quick trot, the assassin nears the airspeeder as Vosh ducks inside. Before the door can close, the assassin bursts forward at a dead run and pulls out his blaster. Nearby someone gives an alarmed shout as the assassin rushes past.

Vosh sits down in the passenger seat of the airspeeder and closes the door as the assassin reaches them. Before Vosh can react, the assassin yanks open the back door and slips into the airspeeder.

Holding his snub nosed blaster in front of him at chest level, elbow cocked out to the side, the assassin aims at Vosh, saying quietly, "Don't blink, don't breath, don't move. Take off and pretend I'm not here."

Vosh starts to turn around and the assassin raises his voice, "Did I stutter, nerf-herder?"

Vosh sits back and looks ahead, saying to the driver, "Just do what he says. Nothing sudden, Trunyh."

The airspeeder takes off and rises up into the air, rapidly gaining altitude. Vosh holds his hands up in front of him and says, "I need to make a call, I'm supposed to check in. Is that alright with you?"

"Make it quick and don't try calling for help, head-tail. Any code words or panic phrases and I'll blast a hole in your skull."

Vosh nods and reaches into his coat to remove a communicator. He activates it and places it against his ear, waiting while it connects. After a moment he says, "Hey boss, it's Vosh."

A brief pause, "Yes, I delivered the package. I'm on my way back to Mahryk's right now. He said to come back once I was done."

Another pause, "I'll let him know. Thank you, sir."

Lowering the comm unit, Vosh ended the call and slid the communicator back into his jacket.

The assassin tossed a pair of binders onto Vosh's lap and gestured with the blaster, "Cuff yourself, and be quick about it."

Vosh complied slowly, watching the blaster from the corner of his eye. Meanwhile, the driver brought the airspeeder down towards the ground again and landed them outside Mahryk's nightclub.

As they touched down, the assassin threw another pair of binders at Vosh and said sharply, "Put these on your friend there and take me inside."

They exited the airspeeder and walked around the back of the club, drawing some looks from people waiting in line outside to get in the front. Vosh and the driver walked ahead of the assassin, who hung back a few meters with his blaster in his jacket pocket again.

When they got to the back door, the assassin jerked his head at the door and gave Vosh a meaningful look. Sighing, Vosh walked up to the door and pressed the intercom, "It's Vosh, I'm back. Get yourself down here and open up for me."

As soon as he released the intercom, the assassin moved like a coiled spring, stepping next to the driver and snapping his arm out. A short vibroblade had appeared in his left hand, and he drove it into the driver's neck all the way to the hilt before ripping it out and rushing Vosh.

The big Twi'lek stepped to the side and swung his cuffed hands at the assassin in a wide hammerfist, but the assassin flowed under his arms and lashed out with his blade, slashing the underside of the Twi'lek's arms and opening a deep gash.

Vosh shoved against the assassin then, trying to throw him to the ground. The assassin slipped behind Vosh and gave him a sharp kick, sending him sprawling forward. Vosh reached out with his hands to break his fall, but landed awkwardly and his face hit the ground.

Just then, the back door of the club opened and a young human stepped out. Immediately he sees the body of the driver in a spreading pool of blood, and looks down at Vosh before opening his mouth to shout.

The assassin draws his blaster in his right hand and extends his arm, aiming quickly and firing twice. The newcomer jerks backward, hit twice in the chest. He tries to close the door but the assassin sprints at him and stabs him several times below the ribs before he can grab the handle.

Shoving the man out of his way, the assassin moves into the hallway beyond the door and looks quickly to his left and right. Heavy music thrums against the walls, and the lighting is dim. Spying the stairs leading up to the offices, the assassin speeds silently towards them.

Near the top of the staircase, he pauses and looks behind him. Seeing no one, he prowls forward, reading the labels on the doors he passes. When he reaches the one labelled: _Mr. R. Mahryk, owner, _he tests the handle. Finding it locked, he knocks politely and steps aside, holding his vibroblade at the ready.

When no one answers, he slides the vibroblade between the door and the frame above the handle. For a moment, he works it back and forth, prying until there is a satisfying click and the door swings open.

Quickly bringing his blaster to bear, the assassin sweeps into the room, moving to the right and keeping his vibroblade low. Keeping near the wall, he circles towards the desk and checks behind it, but finds the room abandoned. Retracing his steps, he closes the door carefully and begins to examine the room.

… CHAPTER SEVEN ...

In a small meditation chamber in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, many of the most influential Jedi Masters have gathered. Luke Skywalker, Grand Master of the Jedi Order, leads the conclave. He is seated on a smooth, circular bench made of dark green plasteel. Before him in a circle are eleven other benches, each occupied by a figure dressed in Jedi robes. The meditation chamber is taller than it is wide, and has one door behind Luke. Along the floor, where it meets the walls, are dim yellow lighting panels that give the room a mellow ambiance.

Among the Jedi Masters gathered there are Kyle Katarn, Tresina Lobi, Kenth Hamner, and Saba Sebatyne. Master Lobi is a near-human female, with blond hair and black eyes. Master Katarn and Hamner are human males, older and weather worn. Hamner's hair has taken on a silvery grey color, while Katarn's hair is only tinged with grey. Master Sebatyne is a reptilian alien, female with oblate red eyes and dark vertical pupils.

The Jedi Masters look to Grand Master Skywalker to begin the meeting. Once he has their attention, he begins, "My fellow Jedi, there is a dark storm brewing. You have all felt the currents in the Force, the echoes of pain and confusion. The attacks on the people of Coruscant have created much fear and anger, and this can easily lead to retaliation."

Master Katarn interjects, "They have good cause to be afraid. These terrorists are clearly professionals. We need to know for certain if it's Corellia that is funding them."

Master Hamner, a Corellian himself, speaks out, "Even if that is the case, we cannot allow the Alliance to strain relations with Corellia too far. Already, the Alliance Advisory Council is discussing punitive measures."

Skywalker continues, "For now, those are only discussions. We need to ensure that they do not progress farther than that."

Katarn remarks, "Your nephew Jacen is hardly helping matters. He's become fast friends with Admiral Niathal, and she's commissioned him to lead a secret police force here on Coruscant."

Skywalker bows his head for a moment and folds his hands, "Yes, that is a matter of great concern to me."

Master Lobi intones in her musical voice, "His guardsmen are very busy. They've interned many citizens and carried out even more raids without any respect for the law."

Skywalker turns to her, "I know, my son Ben has been with them for some of those. Jacen brought him into this mess, but perhaps we can turn that to our advantage. I need someone to monitor the activities of the Galactic Alliance Guard, in case they start adopting even more extreme measures."

Again, Master Lobi speaks, "Master Skywalker, Ben trusts me implicitly. I could keep an eye on him and attempt to learn more about what Jacen is doing."

Hamner adds in his gravelly voice, "That would provide us with valuable information. Already, I fear that we are losing touch with the higher echelons of government here on Coruscant."

Skywalker nods in agreement, "I fear the same, Master Hamner. Tempers are running high in the Senate and the Advisory Council has been meeting extensively with the Fleet Commanders. I fear a brash reaction could spark further violence."

…

The _Dauntless _was an enormous warship, more than twice the size of an Imperial Star Destroyer. It's hull was in the shape of an elongated egg, with numerous smooth protrusions lining the dorsal surface. Along each side were three landing bays, sealed by faint blue particle shields to keep the atmosphere inside. Built at the legendary Mon Calamari shipyards, she was a masterpiece of military engineering.

In the quarters of Admiral Rotobo, commander of the Alliance Fourth Fleet, a half dozen officers in Alliance white were gathered. Admiral Rotobo is a round faced man, his cheeks pocked and weathered, his hair thinning and white. He sat behind his desk, several large datapads in front of him. Looking up, he speaks in gruff tones, "Boys, we're mobilizing. I want all our stores at maximum capacity, and prepare for extended fighter operations."

He looks at one of the younger officers, "Jan, you're on deck to command the forward element. I want you onboard the _Trucemaker_."

The officer nods, "Aye, sir. I'm honored."

Rotobo grumbles, "Don't tell me that, just get to your ship and do your job."

The doors to the admiral's quarters open and Jacen Solo strides in, walking straight towards Admiral Rotobo. The officers present stiffen and straighten their backs as Jacen passes them. Reaching the admiral, Jacen extends his hand to him. The admiral shakes it and says, "Well met, Master Solo. I've received your reports and we're prepared to move into the Corellia system."

Jacen nods, looking serious, and says, "Remember, we don't know who the Corellians may have gotten to. Take special care of those I noted in my reports, we cannot afford any loose ends when we strike."

Admiral Rotobo smiles, "Master Solo, it will be my pleasure to crush this rebellion before it begins."

Looking to his officer, the admiral says, "Gentlemen, get to your ships. Alert your crews, prepare to cruise in forty-eight hours. Dismissed."

The officers collectively come to attention, "Dismissed, aye aye, sir."

The file out of his quarters, leaving the admiral and Jacen Solo alone. Jacen hands the admiral a single datapad, "There is one last matter to attend to. Our friends in the Senate assure me that this measure will be passed tomorrow, I thought you would like to be aware of the details."

The admiral takes the datapad and smiles graciously, "We're going to do great things together, Master Solo. I admire your vision and foresight."

…

The tattooed man crouches in the shadows, invisible. His breathing is stilled to a faint whisper, and his heart beats slowly, like a funeral march.

He is outside of a spaceport, and it is early in the morning, before the sun rises. Dock workers are already busy loading shuttles and driving heavy lifters to stack cargo containers. Ships are being fueled and maintenance crews conduct preliminary checks.

Stealing through the darkness, the tattooed man moves like a ghost. His footsteps make no sounds, and he slips past the workers without the faintest hint of his presence.

Moving into the depths of the spaceport, he arrives outside a secure docking bay. It has one entrance, a large set of reinforced blast doors tall enough to admit heavy vehicles and wide enough for two airspeeders to fit easily. Four armed guards stand outside, carrying blaster rifles.

As a cargo loader approaches the doors, the tattooed man springs from cover, arcing high into the air and landing between two crates on the loader. The blast doors smoothly pull apart and the cargo loader hovers inside the docking bay.

A large military transport shuttle sits in the center of the docking bay, and several technicians are busy fueling the shuttle while two more look on through a wide viewing port from an observation deck two stories above the docking bay floor. A set of switchback ramps leads to the observation deck, which is accessed by a smaller blast door.

As the cargo loader passes near the ramp, the tattooed man leaps off and lands at the top, in front of the blast door. His dark clothes rustle only faintly as he lands. Taking a small keycard out of his pocket, he swipes it next to the door, which opens with a pressurized hiss.

One of the technicians turns to look at the door, and upon seeing the man gives a start. The tattooed man stretches out his hand, fingers curling together, and the technician opens his mouth to wordlessly scream.

Stepping inside, the tattooed man shuts the door and closes his fist. The technician's eyes bulge and his throat is crushed, he collapses to the floor in a heap. The other technician backs up against the far wall and raises his hands, "Hey, look..."

The tattooed man points to him and gestures casually. The technician flies through the air towards the tattooed man, who snaps out his other hand to deliver a sharp blow to the technician's throat. The technician's body spasms from the force of the blow and he drops with a soft thump.

Looking out through the viewport, the tattooed man watches as the ground crew finishes fueling the shuttle. As they complete the process and disconnect various lines and hoses from the shuttle, he opens the door to the observation deck and walks back down the ramp.

He walks smoothly, silently. He is almost on the ground floor before anyone notices his presence. One of the ground crew sees him and points, shouting, "You there, what are you doing?"

The tattooed man runs forward with inhuman speed and jumps up, kicking him sharply in the head and landing on the other side as the man is thrown back from the force of the blow. Moving so fast he is almost a blur, the tattooed man closes the distance to the shuttle and seizes one of the crewmen by the neck, flinging him to the ground.

The two remaining crewmen start for the docking bay doors, but the tattooed man waves his hand and several fuel lines float up off the ground and wrap themselves quickly around the men's throats, pulling them to the ground. The tattooed man looks at the crewman at his feet with an expression of faint detachment and brings his heel crashing down on the man's neck.

Without sparing a glance for the other men as they die, the tattooed man goes around the back of the shuttle and opens the boarding ramp.

...

In the cantina on Corellia, Elohirnok waits. Haytham and Thrash are arguing about something while Sventrare looks intently at the holocommunicator on the table.

The personal comm on Elohirnok's belt clip chimes, and he snatches it up and answers, "It's Halal, sir."

The high pitched voice of the Bith at the safehouse carries over the device, "I am aware of that, Lieutenant, but thank you for reminding me. I have considered what you said, and think it best if you contact this man."

Elohirnok's eyebrows pull together, "Sir, I've examined the device and it appears to be a one way repeater. There's no way to trace the signal."

"I suspected as much, not to worry. I'm more concerned by our informant's disappearance. One of my men went by his last known residence and the premises are abandoned. No signs of a struggle, though."

"Shouldn't finding him be our highest priority, sir?"

"It is. I think that this man will have something to say on the matter. Do whatever it takes to get to our informant or find out what he knew, Lieutenant. Superviser out." The Bith terminates the call, leaving Elohirnok to stare down at the holocommunicator on the table.

Finally, he reaches out and activates the device, setting it upright on the table and settling back into his chair.

Haytham and Thrash fall silent, and all eyes are locked on the faint holo-image that appears above the device. A well groomed man, dressed in a long jacket and expensive waistcoat bows slightly. Straightening up, he addresses Elohirnok in a crisp, cultured accent, "Good evening Lieutenant Halal, it is quite the pleasure to finally see your face. Allow me to introduce myself, if I may be so bold."

Elohirnok's face melts into a neutral expression, jaw set as he replies, "Be my guest."

The man clasps his hands in front of his waist and says, "My name is Stefan Del Versio."

Elohirnok looks at Haytham, who raises an eyebrow inquisitively. Focusing his attention back on the holo-image, Elohirnok says evenly, "I've heard of you. You're something of a financial tycoon."

Stefan laughs lightly, "That's a very generous title. I've been called many things, but that has got to be one of my favorites, I thank you."

Turning to face the others seated at the table, Stefan spreads his hands theatrically, "You are probably wondering why I have contacted you. The reason is simple. I have something you want very badly, and I'm quite willing to give it to you."

Haytham inquires, "Why the cloak and dagger business, Mr. Del Versio?"

Chuckling, Stefan replies, "Perhaps you do not realize the gravity of the situation you are in."

"I was not informed, perhaps you could enlighten me?" Haytham quips.

"Gladly, Master Kenway." Stefan folds his hands again.

Elohirnok cuts in, "Slow down, there. How is it you know our names?"

Stefan shakes his head slowly, "Lieutenant Halal, you of all people I would expect to have caught on. I know everything about you, just as I know all about your intelligence operation here in Coronet City."

Thrash's face darkens, anger flashing in his eyes, "What do you know?"

Elohirnok continues, "Explain yourself. What is it you want from us?"

Stefan takes a short breath and answers, "Why, I wish to surrender and be granted asylum by the Alliance."

Thrash scowls, "Who are you to surrender? You're Corellian nobility, aren't you?"

Stefan tips his head forward in a shallow bow, "That is mostly correct, Specialist Ordo."

Taken aback, Thrash says incredulously, "Specialist?"

"Why yes, you were approved for promotion this morning, my good boy. I'm sure you're quite pleased at the news."

Elohirnok leans forward and speaks sharply, "Enough games, Del Versio. What are you running from?"

The holo-image flickers and there is a momentary crackle of static before the image resolves itself. Stefan continues, "Are you familiar with proton torpedoes, Lieutenant?"

"I am. They're restricted by the bylaws of the Alliance to military use. Why are you bringing them up?"

Stefan smiles, "Not even a hint of recognition? Shame on you, Lieutenant. I think a member of Wraith Squadron would appreciate the ability to destroy capital ships."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you need to stop talking in circles or this conversation is over."

Stefan sighs, "Very well, if you insist. I am a self made man, and many of the connections I built during my life are in the very highest corners of our government here on Corellia. I also maintain more, discreet connections. Underworld sorts."

Elohirnok folds his hands on the table and listens intently while Stefan elaborates, "There is a very powerful coalition that wants nothing to do with the Alliance anymore. I am intricately involved in arranging these people's financial operations, and the juicy details I can give you are extemely compromising. Not only that, but I can directly prove their connections to the insurgent movement on Coruscant."

Thrash slams his fist down on the table, "You're lying, you little worm. You're a disgrace to Corellia!"

Elohirnok puts a hand on Thrash's shoulder and pushes him gently back in his seat, "Easy, Sergeant. Easy."

Stefan looks sympathetically at Thrash, "Would that it was so easy to dismiss my claims, my young boy, but I am afraid the evidence I have is irrefutable. Your superiors would be eager to get their hands on the data I can provide."

Elohirnok says directly, "Mr. Del Versio, you mentioned proton torpedoes. Have your associates acquired any?"

"It's worse than that, Lieutenant. I personally oversaw the construction of a production facility for experimental high yield warheads. An Arkanian doctor by the name of Jareel had quite the demonstration for my business associates, and frankly they were smitten. Our first production run was finished last week."

Haytham curses softly, "How many, how are you... this is a rebellion."

Stefan nods, "And no mere scattering of freedom fighters either. You have quite the problem on your hands, but I'll gladly supply you with all the information I have in exchange for my terms."

Elohirnok grimaces slightly, "Right. Total amnesty."

Stefan raises a finger, "More than that, Lieutenant. I want you to get me off this planet and deliver me safely to Coruscant."

"That shouldn't be too difficult."

"Ah, well there are a few details you are not yet aware of, Lieutenant. For instance, CorSec has recently restricted all outbound flights from Corellia, citing security concerns. Once I collect my information and make my exit, my former friends in government will be none too pleased to see me go. I would require your promise of protection before I can deliver the information you need."

Elohirnok leans back, considering his reply. Thrash continues to glare at the holo-image while Haytham strokes his chin, bemused.

Eventually Elohirnok says, "I will need to clear this with my supervisor first, but I think we can do this."

Stefan smiles, "I happen to have taken the liberty of installing a listening device in this holocommunicator. I am well aware that your supervisor has entrusted you with all the authority required to carry out my request."

Smiling in spite of himself, Elohirnok shakes his head, "Now I feel he fool. Consider it done."

Stefan interjects, "One final condition, if you please."

He faces Sventrare and states gravely, "Master Dermo, I would have your word as a Jedi Knight that you will see me safely to Coruscant."

Sventrare looks taken aback, "My word? Why is that?"

Stefan insists, "That is my final condition. I will deliver all the information I have available, which is pretty much everything, but I must have your personal assurances as to my safety."

Sventrare places his palms together and bows his head, "Mr. Del Versio, as a Knight of the Jedi Order, I swear to see you to Coruscant and protect you until you are safely in the hands of the Alliance."

"Excellent. I will meet you outside the cantina in five minutes. I take it you have transportation to your safe house?"

Sventrare nods, "We do."

"Very well, if you don't mind, gentlemen, I have a few last minute details to take care of."

The image vanishes and after a long silence, Haytham speaks first, "That was... remarkable."

Elohirnok shakes his head, "I really don't know what to say."

Thrash hesistantly says, "Yay, team?"

Haytham smirks, "Something like that."

The group pays for their drinks and files outside, leaving the holocommunicator on the table. Elohirnok goes to get the airspeeder, and shortly after he returns they are approached by a hunched, disheveled man with an attache case cuffed to his left hand. Waving at them as he approaches, he calls out, "Gentlemen, I'm so pleased you waited for me. Shall we be going?"

Thrash looks questioningly at him, saying, "You were a lot more presentable over the holo, you know."

Stefan laughs quietly, "Aren't we all?"

Elohirnok motions for them to get into the airspeeder, and in short order they are flying back to the safehouse.

… CHAPTER EIGHT …

Rastaphor, the Bith supervisor of the Alliance safehouse, was furious. He had recently been informed by a nervous subordinate that Corellian authorities were restricting transports to and from the system, and that direct clearance was required from CorSec to leave or approach Corellia proper.

Ordinarily, this would not have been the end of the world, but shortly thereafter, he had also received a secure transmission from Colonol Raven, his superior, informing him to evacuate all his personnel from the planet within forty-eight hours.

And then his most promising informant, Ran Tonnor, vanished without a trace hours before he was supposed to be extracted by a security team. This fiasco was getting completely out of hand, and his frustration was showing.

Stalking down a hallway, Rastaphor watched as men and women, and a few aliens, scrambled about with equipment and crates. He had every confidence that the evacuation would go smoothly, if it weren't for the quarantine.

Rastaphor went downstairs and through the art gallery, into the courtyard outside that served to separate his compound from the street. The doorman, who was actually an Alliance commando, was admitting his security team that had gone to meet Tonnor.

Elohirnok led the way, accompanied by a dirty looking man with stooped posture. Jarringly, there was a solid looking attache case secured to the stranger's wrist. Right behind the stranger came Sventrare, looking about as though he expected to be ambushed at any moment.

Rastaphor walked up, holding out his hand to Elohirnok, "Very good work there."

He turned to the newcomer, "You must be Stefan Del Versio, I'm glad to have you here."

Stefan chuckles, "I hope it's not that obvious who I am, I did put some effort into this disguise."

Rastaphor nods, "Disguises are my specialty, but it did help to know you were coming."

Sventrare steps forward, "Supervisor, with your permission, we would like to leave immediately to take this man to Coruscant."

Rastaphor wrinkles the flaps on his cheeks, frustrated, "I wish things could be that easy. Unfortunately, I've just learned that CorSec is checking all outgoing traffic. It's impossible to take off without proper authorization."

Thrash fumes, "What? That's absurd, this is Corellia! No one keeps a Corellian planetside."

Stefan looks down thoughtfully, "There's a storm brewing, that's for sure."

Looking back at Rastaphor, he continues, "You're certain that there's no way you can smuggle me off the planet? I'm afraid that all of my own assets cannot be trusted for this task. It's only a matter of time until my associates learn of my... change of allegiances."

FUTURE SCENE:

Four duelists, one with a double bladed lightsaber and his ally with a single blade face two single blade users.

The double blade and ally are in the center to start, the other two face them from opposite sides.

The two others lock eyes and share a mutual understanding to attack, the two single blade users close rapidly, the other hammering the ally with broad, fast strikes that turn aside the ally's blade repeatedly, driving him back.

The other quickly wounds the ally twice, and shows no signs of slowing down.

The one facing the double blade charges in as well, swinging a horizontal strike. The double blader side steps and blocks with his left blade, but switches it off just as the blades touch, unbalancing his attacker. As he blocks, he spins quickly to his right, dropping to his knees and slamming his other blade in below the attacker's ribs. The blade punches through his chest, killing him instantly.

The double blader pulls out his saber and switches the other side back on as he stands up and moves to aid his ally.

Analysis: Double blader practices Juyo and Trakata efficiently.

ANOTHER FUTURE DUEL:

The attacker moves in cautiously at first, circling the defender and testing with quick, conservative cuts. The defender switches into a high guard, both arms above his head, saber point down in front of him.

The attacker strikes high and fast, but as the defender shunts his saber aside, he bounces his saber back and moves quickly to the right, flowing into a low slash. The defender leaps up to avoid the slash and somersaults over his attacker's head.

As he lands, the attacker twists and thrusts directly at his throat. The defender leans back and catches the tip of the saber with the lower portion of his own, and slides inside the attacker's guard. The attacker attempts to withdraw his saber quickly to slice at the defender, but as he does so, the defender grabs the attacker's wrists with his off hand and plants his foot behind the attacker's legs.

The defender pulls the attacker's arms up and checks him with his hip, throwing the attacker towards the ground. Losing his balance, the attacker releases his saber and lands hard on his back. The defender spins his saber and plunges it towards the attacker's chest, but the attacker raises both hands and blasts him with the Force, flinging him into the air.

The defender backflips and aims to land on his feet, throwing his lightsaber at the attacker as he does so. The glowing blade twirls through the air, but the attacker ducks under it and races towards the defender. As he runs, he uses the Force to pull both the defender's saber and his own into his hands, and leaps forward.

The defender lands in a crouch and rolls to the left to avoid a double downward slash with both lightsabers. Snarling, the attacker whips around to follow him, slashing with one saber and then the other. Backpedaling, the defender throws a nearby object at the attacker with the Force, but he twists easily around it and keeps advancing.

Reaching a ledge, the defender coils his legs underneath him for a leap upwards, but the attacker sees this and rushes him. Jumping upwards, empowered by the Force, the defender soars up past the attacker, who pivots to face him and thrusts both lightsabers out at the defender.

Jerking to a halt in mid-air, the defender is yanked downwards by the Force, directly at the attacker. With a hiss, he his impaled on both lightsabers.

Analysis: Attacker employs Niman with a touch of Jar'Kai, while the defender uses Djem So and Ataru.

YET ANOTHER FUTURE DUEL:

On a wraparound balcony, the defender raises his saber in a calm salute and holds it out in a low fencing guard, point angled towards the ground. The attacker ignites his double bladed saber and advances carefully, leading with his left side, keeping the end of one blade pointed at the defender as he moves.

Probing, the attacker pushes with the Force, but the defender lifts his off hand diffuses his assault. The attacker lunges forward and thrusts with the point of his saber. The defender steps back and evades the thrust, maintaining his guard. Spinning for momentum, the attacker launches into an assault.

The defender raises his blade to deflect a downward backslash and neatly parries a rising slash from the other end of the saberstaff, shunting the attacker's blade up and aside before darting in with a quick cut aimed at the attacker's arm.

The attacker reverses his spin and dances outside the defender's reach, then charges forward and leaps up, slashing downward as he lands. The defender sidesteps his attack and the attacker twirls his saberstaff around his hips, quickly changing the direction of his slash, aiming for the defender's legs. The defender quickly ducks low and parries, sticking with the attacker's blade and forcing it up.

Turning his lightsaber, the defender pushes forward and inflicts a shallow cut on the attacker's leg. The attacker whips the lower end of his lightsaber around, swinging at the defender's exposed shoulder. The defender turns his thrust into a somersault, rolling past the attacker. As he springs lightly to his feet, he thrusts behind him, forcing the attacker to throw himself sideways.

The defender pivots and executes a graceful one handed slash, grazing the upper arm of the attacker. The attacker falls back against the balcony railing and pulls the defender violently towards him with the Force. Caught off guard, he is flung forward, but turns the movement into a fluid thrust. The attacker jumps out of the way and kicks the defender quickly before he regains his balance, toppling him over the railing.

Tumbling as he falls, the defender switches off his lightsaber and braces himself to land on the rooftop below. The attacker follows him quickly, jumping over the railing and landing beside the defender, who rushes at him as he ignites his lightsaber.

Before the defender can reach him, the attacker springs forward with a burst of Force-induced speed and slashes aggressively upwards. The defender barely turns the blow aside with his saber before the attacker twists and brings the other blade around.

The defender attempts to sidestep and circle outside the attacker's reach. In response, the attacker lunges with the end of his saber, jumping forward. The defender falls backward and tumbles away, coming up to his feet as the attacker continues his charge, slashing from side to side.

Blocking the slashes, the defender counters low. The attacker jumps up just enough to avoid the slash and throws all of his momentum behind a downward diagonal slash. The defender raises his lightsaber a moment too late, and barely blocks the attacker's blade as he bears down on him.

Leaning into his weapon, the attacker forces the defender down. As he loses his footing, the defender attempts to slip out of the blade lock and swings his lightsaber back and around in a counterstroke. The attacker anticipates this, however, and retaliates instantly with his opposite blade, severing the defender's sword arm at the elbow.

Staggered, the defender falls back, playing for space. The attacker lashes out with the Force, seeking to throw his opponent down, but the defender meets his attack and resists it. The two duelists strain against each other, fighting through the Force until suddenly the attacker is thrown backwards.

His lightsaber flies out of his grip, spinning away as he lands, and the defender sprints towards him, calling his own weapon into his off hand as he runs. Reaching the attacker, he thrusts his lightsaber downward in a killing stroke. The attacker rolls to his left as the lightsaber blade plunges past his head, and he gets up on his knees quickly, grabbing the defender's arms and flipping him forward.

The defender lands on his back with a sharp smack, and the lightsaber slips out of his hand. The attacker pulls his own saberstaff into his hands and switches it on, bringing it down on the defender.

Raising his hand, the defender calls for his lightsaber one last time. As the attacker plunges his blade into the defender's heart, the defender's own lightsaber flies towards his outstretched hand, igniting just before it pierces the attacker's back and kills him.

Analysis: Defender employs Makashi, augmented with Soresu; the attacker practices Niman and Ataru


	2. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Rastaphor, the Bith supervisor of the Alliance safehouse, was furious. He had recently been informed by a nervous subordinate that Corellian authorities were restricting transports to and from the system, and that direct clearance was required from CorSec to leave or approach Corellia proper.

Ordinarily, this would not have been the end of the world, but shortly thereafter, he had also received a secure transmission from Colonel Raven, his superior, informing him that he had to evacuate all his personnel from the planet within forty-eight hours.

And then his most promising informant, Ran Tonnor, vanished without a trace hours before he was supposed to be extracted by a security team. This fiasco was getting completely out of hand, and his frustration was showing.

Stalking down a hallway, Rastaphor watched as men and women, and a few aliens, scrambled about with equipment and crates. He had every confidence that the evacuation would go smoothly, if it weren't for the quarantine.

Rastaphor went downstairs and through the art gallery, into the courtyard outside that served to separate his compound from the street. The doorman, who was actually an Alliance commando, was admitting his security team that had gone to meet Tonnor.

Elohirnok led the way, accompanied by a dirty looking man with stooped posture. Jarringly, there was a polished attache case secured to the stranger's wrist. Right behind the stranger came Sventrare, looking about as though he expected to be ambushed at any moment.

Rastaphor walked up, holding out his hand to Elohirnok, "Very good work there."

He turned to the newcomer, "You must be Stefan Del Versio, I'm glad to have you here."

Stefan chuckles, "I hope it's not that obvious who I am, I did put some effort into this disguise."

Rastaphor nods, "Disguises are my specialty, but it did help to know you were coming."

Sventrare steps forward, "Supervisor, with your permission, we would like to leave immediately to take this man to Coruscant."

Rastaphor wrinkles the flaps on his cheeks, frustrated, "I wish things could be that easy. Unfortunately, I've just learned that CorSec is checking all outgoing traffic. It's impossible to take off without proper authorization."

Thrash fumes, "What? That's absurd, this is Corellia! No one keeps a Corellian planetside."

Stefan looks down thoughtfully, "There's a storm brewing, that's for sure."

Looking back at Rastaphor, he continues, "You're certain that there's no way you can smuggle me off the planet? I'm afraid that all of my own assets cannot be trusted for this task. It's only a matter of time until my associates learn of my... change of allegiances."

Rastaphor shakes his head, "If I could, my first responsibility would be to get my own people out. I'm afraid that it would draw too much attention to call in that many favors at once, making everyone here vanish."

Stefan's expression darkens, "The information I have is valuable beyond reason. I came here with the understanding that you recognized that value."

Rastaphor looks at Stefan with his large, black eyes, probing, "Give me that data, and I will see what can be done. I assume that's it?" He points to the attache case.

"Not so fast. You'll have the data when I know how I'm getting out of here."

"You'll have to be patient, I've already told you that my hands are quite full."

Elohirnok tilts his head to the side and motions for Rastaphor to follow him as he takes several steps away from the group. When Rastaphor steps over, he leans down and speaks quietly, "I couldn't mention the details over an open comm, but this guy's the real deal. He was at the top level of a conspiracy that appears to run to the very heart of the Corellian government."

"I assumed as much, but there really isn't a lot I can do. I've had priority instructions from command to evacuate and freeze my operations. We were given a forty-eight hour window."

Behind them, a look of realization dawns on Thrash's face, "Hey, wait a minute! I know a guy here, he can get us a ship that has no connections to anyone here. We can take that."

Stefan looks condescendingly at him, "I admire your pluck, boy, but that still doesn't get us past the restricted launch authorizations."

Elohirnok hooks his thumbs into his belt, and looks at Thrash, "This guy, can he get us a decent ship? One that'll fly well, preferably with some punch?"

Nodding eagerly, Thrash responds, "Yeah, I saved his life at Corulag. He'll give us whatever we ask for."

Sventrare approaches Rastaphor, "With respect, supervisor, I have given my word to take this man safely to Coruscant. As a member of the Jedi Order, I am only an auxiliary to the Intelligence department. While I would appreciate your blessings in our departure, I feel obliged to make use of Thrash's offer to fulfill my promise."

Rastaphor shrugs, "Not much I can do, really. You and the rest of Special Missions Team are hereby charged to evacuate Corellia and return this person of interest to Coruscant, with his data. I can't take responsibility for anything that happens to you from here on out, so good luck and may the Force be with you."

Thrash grins from ear to ear.

…

General Wedge Antilles had been with the Rebel Alliance as a pilot, flying against the Death Star. Since then, he had fought for the New Republic, and become an officer in the fleet. When the Vong invaded, he weathered the worst of it alongside his men, and stood by the reformatted Alliance after the fall of Coruscant. His entire life had come to be defined by his service to this organization, and now they spat on him.

Wedge stood on the balcony of his penthouse, near the heart of Coruscant, the Senate District. Miles up, he had quite the view, although it was very different than it once was. The Vong had destroyed a huge portion of the cityscape, and reconstruction efforts were only just getting off the ground. Taking a sip from the glass he held in his hand, Wedge fumed silently.

That morning he had received a message that he was relieved of his command of the Second Fleet, and instructed to stand by for further orders. No explanation was offered, but Wedge knew. His homeworld, Corellia, was on the brink of revolt. Admiral Niathal was readying the Fourth Fleet, in case the situation escalated.

Personally, Wedge sympathized with his fellow Corellians. They hated to feel controlled, and lately the Alliance was being very controlling. But as a military man, Wedge respected the hard discipline of the Alliance. The government worked well, it had stood strong against the Yuuzhong Vong invasion, and now it was binding the galaxy's wounds up.

That was an expensive job, but Corellia had enjoyed a peace that few worlds knew during the war, and was one of the few industrial worlds left unscathed by the conflict. It was only fair that they pay a part of the butcher's bill.

However, to have his integrity questioned like this was outrageous. He couldn't prove anything, but he was certain that Admiral Niathal had personally ordered his dismissal.

Turning around and walking inside his apartment, Wedge went over to the kitchen and drained his glass in a single gulp. Setting the glass down by the sink, he turned on a holodisplay to watch the news.

His apartment was well furnished, and in his youth Wedge would have laughed at the suggestion that he might one day have such a luxurious suite to himself. Now, he barely noticed it.

Sitting down on a wide couch, he watched as the Senate voted on a measure introduced earlier in the day. It was a bill to authorize further spending on the reconstruction projects, but it also included some very harsh measures for enforcing the taxes it included on planetary governments. Corellia had been boycotting the initial spending measures for almost two years now, and this measure was intended to put an end to that.

An irritating chime came from the holodisplay, someone was trying to reach him. Reluctantly, Wedge reached over and put the call through. Jacen Solo, replete in his Galactic Alliance Guard armor and brown Jedi robe, appeared before him.

"General Antilles, good afternoon."

"I'm certain you know it's anything but, Master Solo."

Jacen's expression betrays nothing as he continues, "Be that as it may, General, I have some stern news for you."

Wedge scowls, "Get on with it."

Jacen looks Wedge straight in the eyes as he says, "Wedge Antilles, I am hereby suspending your rank in the Alliance Navy. Until further notice, you are to take a leave of absence, without pay or other benefits."

Wedge explodes, "What in the name of Malachor are you talking about? You certainly don't have that authority!"

Jacen continues, his face like a statue's, "As commander of the Galactic Alliance Guard, I have every authority. Pending further investigation into the matter of the Corellian insurgency here on Coruscant, you are to be placed on probationary status."

"They're not bloody Corellians! Those Hutt-scum are nothing more than paid cronies, and you know it, Jacen!"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Antilles." The call is terminated without another word.

Wedge slumps back into his seat, stunned.

…

Walking back to the airspeeder with a set of starship ignition codes in his hand, Elohirnok turned to Thrash, "That's a hell of a friend you have there."

Thrash laughs, "See why I couldn't just let him get killed by the Vong?"

They climb into the airspeeder, joining Sventrare, Haytham, and Stefan. Sventrare leans forward and smiles, "From the looks on your faces, I assume that your meeting was successful?"

Elohirnok smiles grimly, "Yeah, now we just get to see how sharp the Corellian air defense gunners are."

Sventare's smile fades, "You really think you can fly out of here, Lieutenant? We can find a safer way if need be."

Starting up the airspeeder, Elohirnok responds without looking back, "I would be insulted if I didn't know you were just concerned for our safety, Sven."

Handing his personal comm to Thrash, Elohirnok says, "Call Lachance, tell him to meet us at the spaceport."

Haytham chimes in, "Speaking of our sullen killer, where exactly has he been?"

Elohirnok answers, "Just exploring, he said he was looking into something and would catch up before we left."

Haytham looks horrified, "You turned him loose? With a gun?"

Elohirnok chuckles quietly, "Yeah, I know. He's probably killed ten people by now."

Sventrare's eyes widen, "Lieutenant, I hope you are joking. You didn't really authorize him to do that, did you?"

Elohirnok smiles evasively, "Maybe he thought I did, it's not like I told him precisely not to, either."

Savoring the look of consternation on Sventrare's face, Elohirnok pilots the airspeeder to the spaceport. Locking the console, Elohirnok gets out and looks around. There is something of an uproar outside the spaceport as disgruntled travellers exchange shouted arguments with the port authorities.

Thrash kneads his eyebrows together, brooding, "They shouldn't be closing the spaceports. This is ridiculous."

Stefan leans over and says helpfully, "It's just a precaution. They're probably looking for me, really. I'd say this is quite practical, given the information I'm savvy to."

Thrash looks him over suspiciously, "And you're just selling your friends out, is that it?"

"Well, technically we're not friends. It was more an alliance of convenience, if that helps you justify this to yourself. And I am defecting to _your _side, if you recall."

"There are no sides here, Mr. Del Versio. Corellia is part of the Alliance. Your associates are criminals and terrorists, nothing more."

Stefan's expression softens and he winces, "They're a little more than that, I'm afraid."

Elohirnok leans against the airspeeder and looks around, taking in the expanse of the spaceport. The entrance is a wide, low archway, carved to represent some distant heroes of Corellia's past. This spaceport itself is one of the smaller ones in Coronet city, but still covers several city blocks.

As he looks around, searching for a service entrance or other means of accessing the spaceport, Lachance strolls casually towards them, accompanied by a terrified looking young man with wild black hair. The young man is wearing a suit, but it is scuffed and dusty, and the man's face has several fresh bruises blossoming on it.

Lachance jerks his thumb at his companion, "This is Tonnor. Took a little effort to procure him, but I thought I'd bring him along."

Elohirnok's jaw almost drops, and he whips around to examine Tonnor, "I'll be damned, the genuine article."

Lachance shrugs and points to the spaceport, "I took the liberty of poking around while I waited. There's an employee's entrance around the side we can use, I slipped an access card off a janitor who was leaving."

Stefan smiles, "Most impressive," He looks around at the group, "Shall we be going? It's going to get considerably more dangerous to be in my company until we're safely away."

Sventrare nods emphatically, "Yes, let us get inside as quickly as possible. We'll use force to get to the ship if we have to."

Haytham raises an eyebrow, trading surprised glances with Elohirnok.

As the group moves towards the spaceport, Stefan hangs back near Tonnor, who is clearly shocked to see him. Tonnor whispers, "Mr. Del Versio, I'm - I'm very pleased to see you."

Stefan smiles coldy, "How fortunate that our paths should cross again, Ran."

…

Inside the spaceport, they move quickly towards the docking bays. Sventrare and Thrash lead the way, shouldering their way through the crowd. When they reach the gates that lead to the docking bays, Haytham steps forward.

A kindly old dock worker is manning the turnstile at the gate, and he looks sympathetically at Haytham, "Master Jedi, I'm afraid that I can't let you through."

Haytham smiles, "I understand, my good man. I'm already cleared, as are my companions. We're authorized by special directive of the Jedi High Council. It's urgent that we get to our ship before the crisis worsens."

The grandfatherly man frowns, "Crisis? There's no crisis, this is just a temporary hold on traffic."

"You understand, of course, that I can't reveal confidential information, but this is quite serious. I called for quarantine, you see."

Looking terribly confused, the old man replies, "Master Jedi? I don't understand. What..."

Raising a hand and smiling compassionately, Haytham says, "Sir, your sincere civic service is admirable. I wish I could explain but there really is no time. We must get to our ship."

"If you say so, Master Jedi. Good luck with your mission."

Haytham leads them through the gate and they hurry off towards the docking bay where their ship awaits them. As they round the corner, a security officer approaches the old man and begins questioning him, pointing at Haytham.

Elohirnok mutters, "Here we go," and breaks into a run. The rest of the group follows, with Stefan straightening up and sprinting to keep up. Behind them the security officer grabs his communicator and begins yelling into it.

As they reach the docking bay, alarms begin to sound throughout the spaceport and magnetic shields activate above the docking bays to prevent ships from taking off. Ahead of them, a beautiful Corellian ship sits in the docking bay. It has several laser turrets on its hull and the sleek design speaks of elegance and speed.

Elohirnok runs up and lowers the loading ramp, rushing aboard and heading for the cockpit. Haytham and Sventrare stay near the entrance to the docking bay, drawing their lightsabers. Stefan, Tonnor, Lachance, and Thrash hurry aboard after Elohirnok.

As Elohirnok runs down the corridor at the top of the loading ramp, he shouts to Thrash, "The magnetic shields are up, but the local power couplings are still vulnerable!"

Thrash skids to a halt, "What?"

"Get on a gun turret and do what I say!"

Stefan and Tonnor head to one of the crew compartments as Thrash rushes towards the center of the ship, looking for one of the turret controls. Inside the cockpit, Elohirnok plugs in the ignition codes and begins rapidly clicking switches and punching buttons as the ship's engines roar to life.

Outside, a dozen security officers run towards the docking bay, brandishing blaster rifles. Haytham and Sventrare ignite their lightsabers and adopt defensive stances as they open fire, sending blue stun rings crackling through the air.

Sventrare ducks and weaves, his green lightsabers twirling around him as he deflects the stun blasts that come close to him. Haytham stands still, holding his lightsaber in front of him one-handed, moving only when necessary to avoid a blast.

The security officers fan out across the entrance to the docking bay, pouring out fire from their rifles. Sventrare spins through the air, laughing as he easily deflects their blasts. Spinning his lightsabers with his upper arms, he gestures with his lower arms and sends a shockwave through the Force, knocking the officers off their feet.

Inside the cockpit, Elohirnok calls Thrash on the ship's communication system, "Sergeant Ordo, do you read me?"

Thrash sits down in the control seat behind on of the turrets, strapping himself in and putting on a headset, "Yeah, I read you. I'm locked and loaded, sir."

"Great, see that section of wall, above the fueling station?"

"Uh, wait... yeah, I got it."

"Outstanding. Light it up, sergeant!"

Grinning, Thrash pivots the turret around and wraps his hands around the triggers, squeezing both firing controls down simultaneously. The dual laser cannons mounted on the hull come to life, spewing green bolts at the wall of the docking bay.

The first few bolts detonate against the wall, leaving scorch marks. Thrash fires again, and again, pounding the permacrete wall to pieces. There is a loud thump and a huge gout of flame bursts out of the wall as the fuel tanks inside catch fire. The magnetic shield above the docking bay flickers and goes out.

While the security officers are still scrambling to their feet, Sventrare and Haytham run up the loading ramp as it rises, deflecting a few stray stun blasts.

Elohirnok pulls back on the throttles and lifts the ship out of the docking bay. As soon as he clears the rim of the bay, he pushes the throttles all the way down and the ship screams forward, the engines flaring. With a mad laugh, Elohirnok angles the deflector shields to the rear and flies straight away from the surface.

Haytham and Sventrare shut off their lightsabers as they stagger inside, tumbling against the side of the corridor when the ship turns sharply. They make their way to the cockpit and strap themselves in.

Elohirnok greets them, "Glad you made it aboard, Jedi."

Haytham nods and Sventrare smiles, "That was quick work with the shield, Lieutenant. Have you done this before?"

Elohirnok grins. From the planet's surface, turbolaser fire erupts as air defense batteries around the city fire on them. Several blasts strike the rear deflector shields, shaking the ship.

Thrash pivots his turret around, keeping an eye peeled for security interceptors. Below, smoke billows out of the docking bay.

The ship quickly heads into low orbit, racing towards the web of orbital platforms above Corellia. Inside the cockpit, a red light starts flashing and beeping loudly.

Sventrare points, "What's that?"

Elohirnok curses, "Contacts, probably fighters. They were ready," Over the radio he says, "Eyes up, Sergeant, incoming."

Thrash keys his headset, "Roger that, I'll chase 'em off."

Above the ship, a pair of nimble A-Wings dive in unison, spraying laser fire. Elohirnok rolls his ship to avoid the blasts, shifting some power to the front deflectors. The A-Wings plunge past him and twist around, punching their thrusters to gain altitude.

Elohirnok reaches up and clicks several switches over, keeping the thrusters pushed all the way out. The ship climbs rapidly, quickly outranging the surface gun batteries. The A-Wings close back in on the ship and begin firing. As their shots hit the ship, the rear deflector shields flare up, shimmering blue against the green laser bolts.

Elohirnok grits his teeth and yells into the radio, "Sergeant! Do something about those fighters!"

Thrash sights in on the fighters and sends several bursts from the turret arcing towards them, forcing the fighters to abort their strafing run. As the fighters pull away, Thrash holds his fire, letting them go.

The ship nears the orbital platforms and the combat sensors in the cockpit start flashing wildly. Elohirnok shuts them off, slamming the controls. He speaks tersely into the headset, "Four contacts, quadrant seven. Take them out, the shields won't hold much longer."

Four more A-Wings approach the ship in a left-handed V. Elohirnok executes a tight roll as they open fire, and their first volley goes wide. The A-Wings' thrusters flare and they rapidly close on the ship, holding their fire until point blank range.

Thrash fires the turret around the lead fighter, trying to force his to pull away from his attack, but the pilot doggedly pursues them, closing in. Elohirnok twists his ship into a spiraling pattern, still heading for the orbital stations, "Any day now, Sergeant!"

Below them, the first two fighters are gaining once more as the V formation dives from above. Thrash watches on his targetting readout as they close the range, and finally presses down on the triggers.

The lead A-Wing flies straight into his burst and explodes spectacularly. Thrash turns the turret and sends bolts chasing after the remaining three fighters as they roll to avoid his shots, breaking off their attack. Before the other two fighters are in range, Elohirnok pilots the ship straight at the nearest orbital station, narrowly fitting between a docking ring and the body of the station.

The two A-Wings chase after him, their small frames easily fitting where the larger ship had barely slipped through. Elohirnok twists a series of dials, diverting power from the deflector shields to the maneuvering thrusters and hugs the surface of the orbital station. He leans into the controls as he flies, guiding the ship through a series of hairpin turns around surface towers and underneath observation decks.

The A-Wings struggle to keep up, their pilots slowing down to navigate the turns. Elohirnok never lets off the throttle, keeping the ship at maximum velocity as the ship banks and rolls. Nearing the far side of the station, he hugs the surface, coming breath-takingly close to scraping against the station.

Leveling out behind him, the A-Wing pilots hold steady, trying to line up shots. Thrash fires wide, trying to deter them.

Elohirnok pulls up as the A-Wings release twin bursts of laser fire. He twists his ship away from the station, flipping over just as he clears the far side of the station. He takes this last turn extremely tightly, trying to put the station between himself and the fighters.

There is a screeching sound as the ship flies past the edge of the station, sparks showering all about. The A-Wings blow past Elohirnok, completely missing the turn. They fly wide and scramble to turn around. Elohirnok slumps back from the controls as he brings the ship level and speeds away from Corellia.

"Whew," He whips off the his headset and turns to face Sventrare, "And to think you doubted me, Sven."

The Codru-Ji raises his hands defensively, "It won't happen again, Lieutenant, I assure you."

Haytham gestures towards the sensor array, "I don't mean to be a downer, but those fighters are still after us."

Elohirnok throws back his head and laughs, "They'll never catch us before I jump to lightspeed. We're in the clear."

As if on cue, a blue light on the console blinks to life. Looking immensely pleased with himself, Elohirnok grabs a heavy lever and pushes it forward. The starscape ahead of the ship blurs, each point of light stretching out into a line as the ship vanishes into hyperspace.

…

Back in the crew quarters, Stefan confronts Tonnor, "You escaped from Mahryk."

Tonnor backs away from Stefan, looking around, but Stefan stands between him and the door.

"Listen, Stefan, we're both on the same side now."

Stefan pulls a holdout blaster from his pocket and swings his hand up to Tonnor's face, squeezing the trigger. The blast throws Tonnor backwards, killing him instantly.

Stefan stands over his corpse and says quietly to himself, "No. You forfeited your life when you betrayed me, and you knew it."

Turning to leave the crew quarters, he comes face to face with Lachance. The assassin leans nonchalantly against the doorframe, eyeing the blaster in Stefan's hand.

For a moment, Stefan hesitates. The two men stand barely a foot apart, a silence hanging in the air. Without a word, Lachance nods slowly and walks away.


	3. Chapter 9

The Corellian ship sped through hyperspace, racing towards Coruscant. The main lounge was recessed into the floor, with several steps leading down into a wide space with two circular tables and low benches set into the bulkheads. Sventrare sat alone at one table, eyes closed.

He reached out through the Force, searching for the peaceful meditative trance that he sought when facing difficult decisions. He had used it successfully from the earliest days of his training, but recently it had proved elusive. Every time he sought to clear his mind and listen to the currents in the Force, stray thoughts would distract him.

Haytham's comments about Thrash haunted him. Sventrare saw the young man's eagerness and enthusiasm as a wonderful presence in the Force, a bright spot. As he meditated, however, he kept sensing a dark presence in Thrash's future.

Frowning, Sventrare tried to discern the nature of this presence, but a voice cut into his mind. The sound was hollow, reduced as though echoing across a great emptiness.

_Sventrare, my apprentice._

_Master Zhayne?_

_Apprentice, you are difficult to feel through the Force. There is a growing darkness..._

_I have felt it, master._

_Beware the dark side, apprentice..._ The voice trails off, fading into silence. Sventrare is left straining to project his thoughts, but realizes that the effort is futile. Opening his eyes, Sventrare stands up and walks out of the lounge slowly.

He walks dreamily, like a sleepwalker. Reaching the crew quarters where Haytham has settled in, Sventrare calls out to the other Jedi, "Haytham! Haytham, are you in here?"

Haytham leans out from one of the bunks and raises his hand in greeting.

"Easy, Sven. What is it?"

Sventrare walks over to him, "Have you felt the disturbance in the Force?" He asks, concern thickening his voice.

Mulling the question over, Haytham leans back and folds his hands over his chest. He answers carefully, "No, I cannot say that I have. What is it you sense, Sventrare?"

"A darkness, a... a shadow. As though someone was standing behind me, but when I turned to look, it was as if it vanished, waiting for me to turn away."

Haytham sits up, his expression intense, "When did you first sense this?"

"On Corellia, but I didn't recognize it at first. Now, on the ship, I feel it even more strongly. Especially when I focus my attention on Thrash's future."

Shaking his head, Haytham stands up and paces across the hold. He folds his hands behind his back as he walks, musing out loud, "I should have been more attentive. I dismissed my feelings as nothing more than cynicism, but you are right. When I concentrate on the lad, his future seems to warp into... nothing."

"Jedi fears are so intriguing," A third voice intones quietly.

Both Jedi turn to look for the source of the sound, and spot Lachance sitting near the back of the hold, partially obscured by shadows. Haytham merely shifts his stance to face Lachance, but Sventrare does a double take and stares incredulously at Lachance.

"How did you get in here?"

Lachance starts to smile slowly, but cuts it short and holds his expression neutral as he answers, "I walked, Jedi. How else would I have gotten in here?"

Sventrare folds his four arms over his chest, "I did not sense your approach, and you weren't here when I first entered."

Lachance spreads his hands and shrugs, "What does it matter? Perhaps you were distracted."

Haytham resumes his pacing, "Regardless. What are a Jedi's fears to you, assassin?"

Without turning his head, Lachance looks carefully at Sventrare before answering, "Contrary to what many believe, it is not just the Jedi who study the Force. I am not a pilot or a doctor, but I observe and take not of what things are possible for spacecraft, or a skilled surgeon."

Sventrare walks towards him, tilting his head head questioningly to the side, "You have studied the Force?"

Tilting his head back to look up at the Codru-Ji, Lachance replies, "Not per se, but I take not of the actions of those who wield it. Your kind are able to sense things uniquely."

Haytham stands still, his feet spread slightly, hands still clasped lightly behind him, "What do you think of these fears we have now? I assume you listened to our conversation for the most part."

Lachance chuckles, "It was ever so compelling, although I did not intend to eavedrop. I think that your fears are indirect reflections of events in motion. Death, betrayal, anger. All these things seem to create powerful disturbances in the Force, which Jedi detect."

Sventrare interrupts, "Do you think that something terrible has happened?"

"Your interpretations of these events are often melodramatic, but you may have sensed some tragedy. Or perhaps you really can sense the future, and something unpleasant awaits us on the other side of hyperspace."

Haytham very nearly rolls his eyes, but resists the urge, "Sven, don't worry about it for now. In time this will make itself clear. For now, as the assassin says, we can only wait and see."

…

Back in his grey flightsuit, Kael climbs up into his X-Wing. The astromech provided by Chorba has been cleaned and given an oil bath while Kael was at dinner, meeting with the leaders of this cabal.

The droid beeps and whirs at him as he settles in and lowers the canopy, pulling his flight harness tight and checking the life support systems. It wasn't that he didn't trust the droid to have everything activated properly, but flying into hyperspace in this tiny fighter gave Kael goosebumps.

In front of the X-Wing, huge white doors pull heavily apart revealing the vast emptiness of space. Kael lets the astromech pilot the craft out. As the X-Wing clears the yacht, Kael takes over. He takes the X-Wing into a conservative spin, testing the thrusters and getting a feel for the fighter's performance as the droid makes the navigational computations to take them to Nar Shaddaa.

Feeling comfortable with the craft, Kael activates the communications suite in the cockpit, bringing up a small holo-image in front of him. The image is a placeholder, the manufacturer's logo, while the long range transmitter boosts the signal. After a few moments, there is an electric beep from the console and Chorba appears in front of Kael.

Bemused at how Chorba appears in the very small holo-image in front of him, but keeping his expression respectful, Kael waits while Chorba finishes slurping down some rubbery meal that is hanging out of his mouth halfway.

When Chorba finishes, Kael greets him, "Chorba, I represented you at the meeting, as requested."

Chorba claps his short arms together, "This is wonderful news, how did the meeting go?"

Kael hesitates, frowning slightly, "I don't quite know, Chorba. It was hardly what I expected."

"Kael, if I told you what to expect, you might never have gone!"

"So you knew about the order they wanted to place?"

Chorba's eyes grow wide with greed, "Tell me, Kael. I had my suspicions, but I want to hear from you first."

"Everything. They made an offer to buy every blaster and stun baton you have, and to keep buying them up for a year, with an option to renegotiate the contract at the end of the year."

Chorba rubs his hands together, causing his rolls of fat to gyrate horrendously, "I had hoped it was true! Splendid!"

"It's exclusive, though."

The Hutt's eyes contract and he exclaims, "What?! Explain yourself, my boy."

Kael braces himself for Chorba's reaction, "They want to be your only client for the duration of the contract. They are offering two and a half times what you offered as the price, but want to have first pick of any new product you acquire."

"Two and a half! That's outrageous, how are they paying?"

"Mygeetan crystals. Twenty-five percent up front, fifty more on receipt of the initial shipments, and the last portion when the contract is completed a year from now. They said that those terms were not negotiable."

Chorba lapses into silence, his eyes dilating slowly. Kael continues, "They want your answer in two days. They're sending a courier to your palace, he'll arrange the details of transporting the goods."

Breaking out into laughter, Chorba shakes with amusement, "Very well, smoothskin. You have done well with these arrangements. I have one more task for you before you return."

Kael's temper flares, "That wasn't part of our arrangement, Chorba! Have you purchased the droids from Weekchawa?"

"Kael, Kael... I am afraid that the Alliance had already purchased the droids from that scheming jawa. He sold them at half the price he was asking of me, and the Alliance paid him readily. I hear that Weekchawa also received some favors from the local government, it seems that charges against him mysteriously vanished."

Kael punches the console with his fist, bloodying his knuckles. He grits his teeth against the pain and punches again for good measure, "Damn! Damn, damn, damn."

Seething, he hisses at Chorba, "You swore you would purchase them, Chorba. If I find out this is one of your tricks..."

Chorba cuts him off, "You'll what, Kael? Don't be a fool. I can still help you rebuild, but it will require a special effort now to find the resources required. This new contract you helped secure will go a long ways toward that, do not make the mistake of thinking that I forget my friends, Kael... or my enemies."

Wiggling his fingers and wincing, Kael presses his knuckles against the leg of his flightsuit to stop them from bleeding, "Fine. What is this other favor, Chorba?"

Chorba raises his tiny palms to Kael, attempting to placate him, "Patience, Kael. I will explain. There is a facility I maintain, and I need a trusted representative to go there and ensure that everything is going smoothly. You are the closest ally I have, and I will reward you, and your female, handsomely for this special favor."

"This had better be worth it." Kael terminates the call, stewing in his frustration. The pain in his hand fades, but it still hurts to move it. He looks down at the battered black chrono on his wrist, figuring out what time it would be back home on Nar Shaddaa. Tilting his head back against the bulkhead, Kael pushes several buttons on the console and closes his eyes while the communications array blips and whirs in response.

Kayta's image appears, wearing simple rust-red clothes with dusty coveralls rolled down to her waist and knotted.

"Kael!" Kayta smiles, "Are you on your way back?"

Grimacing, Kael answers, "No, unfortunately. Chorba claims he needs some special favor done out here in the middle of nowhere."

Kayta's smile fades a little, "Will it take long? And did he buy the droids?"

"No, I was going to ask you about that. He spun some story about the Alliance buying off that jawa dealer and getting the droids at half price."

"Oh... Kael, we could really have used those droids."

"I know! Damn it, I know already."

Kayta looks guilty, "I didn't mean that, Kael. You were trying your best. We'll find another way."

Kael grinds his teeth, "Trying sure got us a lot, didn't it? Do me a favor, please, and look into Chorba's story. I want to know if that slab of grease is making this up about the jawa."

"Ok, I'll ask around. Don't be this hard on yourself, you have enough to worry about as it is."

Closing his eyes again, Kael relaxes his jaw and with some effort steadies his breathing.

"Oh, by the way, Kael, Eiden was asking how you were."

Kael looks up, "Eiden?"

"The little boy Chorba apprenticed to Verrick, he found me the other day and asked where you had been."

"The generator kid?" Kael shakes his head, "I've got to get going, Chorba's droid is beeping at me to make the jump to hyperspace."

"Ok, I'll find out about the jawa for you. Stay safe."

"Keep your eyes open, Kayta. I'll see you when I get back." Kael ends the transmission and spins up the hyperdrive, preparing for the jump. The astromech droid behind him bleeps impatiently.

"Remind me to burn out your memory core with a fusion cutter later, you miserable little scrap heap," Kael says flippantly as he engages the hyperdrive.

…

Elohirnok guides the Corellian ship out of hyperspace above the bustling planet of Coruscant. The vast geometries of the surface city are smudged out in places, where the war took its toll, and other parts of the planet are obscured by dark purple and green plant growths. The alien biology introduced by the Vong was stubborn, and difficult to remove. Even though the war was long ended, Elohirnok could still see stark reminders of it everywhere.

Transmitting his personal landing code directly to the Crix Madine Military Reserve, he was approved for priority landing at the Alliance military headquarters.

The Crix Madine Military Reserve was a massive compound, extending deep into the underbelly of Coruscant. Near the top were dozens of landing pads. Some were nearly large enough to accomodate a small cruiser, and military transports came and went frequently. Elohirnok was directed to land on one of the smaller pads, in the shadow cast by the main tower of the Reserve.

Lowering the boarding ramp, Elohirnok unclipped from the pilot's seat and went back to collect his gear. He had left some of it on Corellia, but packed his prize possessions in the small bag he wore when escaping from the spaceport. Among them were the rank insignia he had worn back when he flew for the New Republic, and a large coin emblazoned with the unit insignia of Wraith Squadron.

Heading towards the boarding ramp, Elohirnok took a quick head count. As everyone gathered in the passageway to exit the ship, Elohirnok frowned.

"Hey, has anyone seen Tonnor? Where did he get off to?"

Haytham and Thrash look around, shrugging. Stefan glances towards Lachance, and the two exchange a brief stare. The hint of a threat seems to flash across Lachance's face, but then it is gone and he steps over to Elohirnok, saying in a soft, clear voice, "He's dead."

Thrash bursts out, "What do you mean? Why didn't you say something!"

Lachance keeps his face smooth and turns politely to face Thrash, "I killed him."

Elohirnok grabs him by the shoulder and leans into his face, "Why would you do a thing like that, huh?"

"It was my prerogative. He was my captive, and when I was finished debriefing him, I executed him for treason."

Haytham concedes quietly, "Likely no worse than he deserved."

Elohirnok points a finger in Lachance's face, "We're not finished with this. I'll discuss this later. For now, everyone off the ship. I'm sure Colonel Raven will have some instructions waiting for us."

…

The team disperses from the landing pad. The Jedi head to the temple in the Senate District; Elohirnok, Thrash, and Lachance take up temporary quarters in the Crix Madine Military Reserve. Stefan is taken away for debriefing, after Sventrare received assurances that he would be released once his information had been analyzed.

The sun is setting on this part of Coruscant, rays of light filtering through the dust and smog that hang over the lower levels of the city, creating a surreal haze. The reddening light gives the city's lower levels a hellish cast, flickering in the shadows of passing speeders and ships. Sventrare gazes out at the war-torn landscape while he and Haytham sit in the back of an airspeeder on their way to the Jedi Temple.

As they reach the Senate District, the temple comes into view. It is a massive transparisteel pyramid, with many terraces staggered along the lower third. Broad avenues connect the temple to nearby buildings, providing footpaths.

Sventrare turns to Haytham, and points at the skeletal remains of the cityscape in the distance, "Haytham, were you here for the fall of Coruscant?"

Haytham stares ahead for a long moment before turning, "No. What prompted that question?"

"Just wondering. It's so different from Corellia here."

Nodding, Haytham kneads his brows together as he looks past Sventrare out the canopy of the airspeeder.

"When Nar Shaddaa was captured by the Yuuzhong Vong, they rounded up most of the local authorities and other influential figures. Their families were held prisoner while they were forced to carry out the Vong's orders."

Sventrare tries not to stare at Haytham, nodding politely. Haytham continues to look out at the setting sun, and Sventrare remains silent, unsure of what to say.

Haytham continues, fatigue breaking into his voice, "We were ordered to help organize the resistance. They were so young, at first. Most of the grown men were off-world, enlisted to fight the Vong halfway across the galaxy. It was their children who had to defend their homes when the Vong landed"

He breathes in deeply and clasps his forearms with his hands, "Not just children, either. Women, old men. We taught them how to move unseen; smuggled in explosives, heavy weapons. They reminded me of men I'd served with under the Grand Admiral. The Vong hated them, hated them fiercely."

Sventrare leaned in, quietly interrupting, "Why? Why did the Vong hate them?"

Haytham gave a short, mirthless laugh, "The Vong were proud warriors, and when they captured some of the commandos, they discovered that it was an army of women and boys, retired mechanics and old grocers who had been harrying them for months. This did not sit well with the planetary overseer, and he ordered the strictest countermeasures."

"I had heard, Master Zhayne and I visited Nar Shaddaa after the war. We saw the... we saw the ruins," Sventare said with great sorrow. His face was twisted up at the memory of the destruction he had seen when he walked on the planet's surface.

Haytham looked sharply at him, and a stern note entered his voice, "Do not presume to understand their sacrifice, Sventrare. They were not afraid to die, and would not accept your pity were they here today. They died, but their successors, the ones who returned from the war, the ones who escaped the scourging of Nar Shaddaa, they are free."

Sventrare is taken aback, and says, "But at such cost? Such death and suffering took a heavy toll on the Force. I felt it there, the heaviness when I walked on Nar Shaddaa. By rebelling against the Vong, they brought about their own destruction. Had they waited, the Alliance would have sent fleets, soldiers to drive out the Vong."

Haytham snaps, "Had they waited, the war may never have ended. How many years would you have had them wait, while their husbands and sons bled and died against the Vong? How long should the people of Nar Shaddaa have suffered under the yoke of the Vong?"

"Haytham, I... I only meant that patience might have saved their planet. The Alliance was turning the war around, gaining ground. They only had to wait," Sventrare offered, gesturing in the air with his hands.

"You will never understand, will you? I don't think you can, Sven. All you see is the Force, and you want to have a perfect fabric woven throughout the galaxy, unblemished and unstained. Well the people of Nar Shaddaa proudly wore the bloodstained banner of their liberty, the Force be damned! I fought with them, and killed with them! It was far better to stand beside those warriors and see their courage than to cower and live in darkness!"

Sventrare looks horrified, "That is insane, Haytham! How can you say that? Their rebellion cost the lives of millions of innocents!"

Haytham regains his composure and steels himself, his voice becoming icy, "I should not have tried to explain. You are part of a different generation, and always will be."

…

Night settles over the city, and Ben Skywalker stands in the back of a dropship. The rear ramp is raised, sealing the troop compartment from the howling winds that twist through the canyons of Coruscant. Inside, faint red lighting strips illuminate the faces of a dozen men wearing the armor of the Guard. Charcoal grey plates protect their torsos, and additional armor covers their shoulders and thighs.

Every trooper is wearing a harness fitted with pouches of spare blaster charge packs, thermal detonators, and binder cuffs. The red light gleams dully off their black carbines and heavy boots. Their faces are blackened with light absorbent paint, and they have traded their uniform helmets for headsets with drop down goggles, tuned for infrared vision.

Ben is dressed in his GAG armor, and has left his Jedi robes behind for this mission. His lightsaber is clipped to his belt. As he surveys the men in front of him, he feels a swelling sense of pride. They are his men, his team. He clears his throat, catching their attention, "Sigma Squad, you all know the plan. Keep it locked down until they start shooting back, then fire at will. We want the leader of the cell, so set for stun once you're past the hangar bay."

The men nod in unison. Several check their carbines, but most rest their weapons on the deck and sit calmly. A voice crackles over the radio, "Sigmas, stand by for infiltration. Thirty seconds out."

Ben's hand goes to his lightsaber, checking. He takes a breath and turns around, facing the loading ramp.

The gunship flies toward a skyscraper that has been badly damaged, half of the building a wireframe patchwork of durasteel. Gliding silently into the superstructure, the gunship spins around facing back out the way it came. Two armored doors slide apart on the back of the gunship and a ramp lowers in segments.

Ben leaps out before the ramp touches the floor, landing silently and moving away from the gunship. Behind him, a dozen troopers fan out, their boots whispering across the floor, disturbing small clouds of dust. The gunship closes its doors and flies away, disappearing down into the bowels of Coruscant.

Leading his men into the dark recesses of the building, Ben holds his lightsaber hilt at this side. Navigating several corners, they arrive at their destination. Two of the men go to work quickly, placing explosives on the floor and wiring them together. In a few moments, they're waving back the other commandos, preparing to detonate.

…

A deafening crash follows the explosion almost immediately. Chunks of permacrete rain down from the ceiling, and Gormand stumbles, falling to his knees. He reaches his arms over his head to protect himself from the falling debris and scrambles away from the hole in the ceiling.

A man clad in dark, plated armor drops through the hole holding a blaster carbine. He sees Gormand and dashes over, hitting Gormand in the side of the head with his boot. Gormand is lifted up and knocked against the wall, and before his head stops spinning, he feels his arms being wrenched behind him as cold metal binders close around his wrists.

The trooper pulls a black cloth bag over Gormand's head and forces him to the ground before moving quickly down the hallway, goggles pulled over his eyes. More troopers slide through the hole, splitting up to go down the hallway in both directions. Four of them move to the doorway at the near end of the hallway while the rest move towards the far end, where a large hangar bay is visible.

Ben Skywalker is the last one through the hole, and he ignites his lightsaber when he lands. He runs to the nearby door and stabs his lightsaber into the reinforced durasteel, dragging it around the edges of the door. The thick metal melts to slag and falls away in front of his lightsaber. Pulling the door back with the Force, Ben lets it fall to the ground as the four troopers waiting behind him flood into the room beyond.

A squat, bulky reactor fills the center of the room, and dozens of wires and cables run along the walls and ceiling. Numerous displays show various readings on the reactor, and a low hum resonates through the air.

One of the commandos slips his carbine's sling over his back and steps up to a display, plugging in a datapad. Another commando secures a half dozen tiny charges on various cables, pressing remote detonators into the casings of the explosives.

Ben turns around and follows the rest of his team down the hallway to the hangar bay. They have formed up near the entrance and are exchanging shots with insurgents who duck out from behind crates and containers in the hangar bay. A moment later, there is a series of light popping sounds from the reactor room and the lights shut off, blanketing the hallway and hangar in total darkness.

Ben can feel the commandos rush forward in the dark, and hears confused shouts from the hangar bay. Reaching out through the Force, Ben senses his surroundings and runs after the commandos, turning right once he is inside the hangar. He reaches a doorway and turns right again, fumbling for the controls. He finds them and the door swishes open in front of him.

Feeling a tickling tightness in the Force, Ben moves instinctively, igniting his blue lightsaber and raising it just as someone in front of him fires a blaster rifle. Ben's lightsaber catches the bolt and neatly deflects it into the ceiling. The shooter fires again, spraying a series of crimson bolts down the hallway at Ben, but many of them flare out against the wall to his right, and the one that does come close is also deflected by his lightsaber.

Feeling a rush of excitement, Ben moves forward, deflecting several more blaster bolts before he reaches the shooter. Allowing the Force to guide him, Ben steps forward and swings his lightsaber up, leaning out to the side and twisting his arms up as he moves through the stroke. His lightsaber meets flesh and cleaves the shooter's left hand from the barrel of his rifle before slicing through the rifle itself. Ben lashes out quickly with the Force, disorienting the shooter.

Ben grabs the shooter and checks him against the wall, throwing him to the ground. He slams him with a wave of Force energy to make sure he won't get up anytime soon and continues down the hallway. All around Ben, he hears blaster fire echoing in the hallways, and several explosions.

Storming down the hallway, Ben subdues another insurgent. One of his troopers walks into the room and activates a green glowrod, setting it in the middle of the room. The trooper lifts up his goggles and cradles his carbine in his arms, "Lieutenant Skywalker, we've secured the compound. Six enemy KIA, five prisoners."

The green glow thrown up from the floor reflects off the low ceiling of the room they are in, revealing rows of triple bunks packed tightly together. Each bunk appears neatly made, with a number of personal effects scattered around the room.

Ben walks up and down the rows of bunks, counting, "Trooper, how many insurgents did we find here?"

"Eleven, sir."

"Well, what do you make of this?" Ben gestures to the bunks, "There must be two dozen in here, and they're all recently slept in."

The trooper frowns, "That's strange, sir. Perhaps there are more of them around," He lifts his wrist to his chin and activates a comlink on his glove, "This is Corporal Darklighter to all Sigmas, search for escape routes and additional passageways. I've found berths for approximately twenty-five hostiles, I repeat, twenty-five hostiles total."

Ben walks out of the room, back towards the hangar bay. The two men he disabled are being carried out to an open space on the floor, with the other three prisoners. Several troopers are opening up and searching the crates in the hangar bay. One of them spots Ben and hurries over.

"Sir, you need to see this right away."

"What is it, trooper?"

The man points wordlessly towards a number of wide, low plasteel containers that have been pried open. Two thirds of them are empty, or almost empty. Bits of wire and stray mechanical pieces lay in the bottoms of the containers that are empty, but the last third of the crates are filled with uniform, rectangular blocks. Ben wrinkles his nose as he stands over them, "What's that smell?"

One of the troopers steps over, "Those are high explosives, sir. High-yield stuff, too. This is all mil-spec equipment."

A voice carries over the trooper's radio, "Corporal Darkligher to Sigma Leader, come in."

Ben takes his comlink off his belt and answers, "Sigma Leader, go ahead, corporal."

"Sir, I've found another barracks room. Same layout as the other. We could be dealing with a very large cell."

"Acknowledged. Thanks for the heads up, corporal."

Ben turns to the plasteel containers in front of him, looking curiously at the components.

A voice on the far side of the hangar bay curses loudly, and Ben looks up as a trooper rushes over to him.

"Lieutenant! We have a problem."

Ben nods, "I'm starting to think so."

"No, sir, this is serious. I just found packaging and parts from over a hundred detonators."

"What?"

"The explosives, sir. Most of them are gone, and so are all of the primers and detonators..."

Ben takes in a tight breath, "... along with three dozen terrorists. Oh, by the Force..."

As if on cue, Ben's holocommunicator chimes urgently and he reaches down to answer it. A flickering blue image of an Alliance soldier appears, wearing his boots and fatigue pants, but otherwise looking as though he had just scrambled out of bed. He is crouched down, looking tense, "Sigma team, do you read me?"

In the background, Ben can hear a crescendo of explosions rocking the building, and the hectic sounds of combat almost drown out the soldier, who is shouting to be heard, "Skywalker, we need immediate reinforcement at the Crix Madine compound! They're all over us, it's complete -"

The soldier is cut off when he suddenly pulls back his head, eyes going wide. He floats several feet off the ground, feet kicking helplessly at the air while he chokes, clutching at his throat.


	4. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Elohirnok snaps awake instantly when he hears the explosions. Moving on instinct, he draws one blaster pistol from beneath his pillow and grabs his gun belt with his disruptor from a small table next to his bunk.

He clips on the gun belt as he rolls out of bed, stuffing his feet into his boots and running out the door, pistol in hand. Outside, in the hallway, the officer's quarters are in total chaos. To his left he can see flames pouring out of one room, smoke billowing thickly against the ceiling. All around him, other officers are spilling out into the hallway, trying to assess the situation.

Elohirnok moves away from the flames, yelling at the men around him, "Let's go! Get topside and find out what's happening."

…

The assassin, or Lachance as he was being called these days, was not surprised when he heard the explosions. Paranoia had long ago been etched into him, and he wasn't even sleeping in his bed. Laying down in the closet with a vibroknife and small holdout blaster, he slept fully dressed. He wasted no time when he awoke, strapping on a small backpack and his sniper rifle. On his way out of the room, he grabbed a hefty vibroaxe from beside the door.

…

Thrash was rudely awakened when half the ceiling fell on him. Smoke and dust filled his eyes and mouth and a large piece of the room above him crushed his bunk almost completely. His legs were pinned under the bent durasteel frame of his bunk, but the intense pain in his leg told him they were at least still connected to his nervous system.

Gritting his teeth and cursing creatively, Thrash tried to pull himself out of his bunk. Leaning over the side and grasping the underside of his bunk, he wrenched his torso towards the floor and felt a hot spike of pain tear through his leg. Swearing louder, he pushed off the floor and back onto his bunk, reaching down to feel his leg.

He felt a sharp length of twisted metal sticking into his calf, and his hands came back soaked in his own blood. Biting down on his tongue, Thrash tried to push aside some of the debris around him. He had little success, and quickly realized that effort was futile.

While considering what to do, he heard a commotion outside in the hallway. Someone was climbing over the mess of shattered permacrete that had filled parts of the corridor, slipping and stumbling as the debris shifted underfoot.

Thrash cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed, "Hey, trooper! In here, I'm pinned by the debris!"

After some more shifting and clambering from the corridor, a man with a mask over his face and a blaster rifle in his hands appeared in the doorway. Thrash cursed again as the man scanned the room with his rifle, zeroing in on Thrash.

Grabbing the first thing that came to hand, a scrap of metal from the ceiling, Thrash chucked it at the man's face. His years of platoon Huttball during medical school apparently paid off, the scrap hit the man in the face and he fell back, surprised.

Without hesitating, Thrash put both hands on the frame of his bunk and braced himself, then yanked his legs out from under the debris. He felt the metal spike pull through his leg, and the hot spray of blood that followed.

Thrash pushed off of his bunk with his arms and swung his legs out. He landed and rushed to the doorway, where the masked assailant was getting to his feet. Thrash kept moving towards him, throwing his weight behind a wild punch towards the man's face. He connected and the man's head snapped back as he was thrown to the ground.

Ignoring the searing pain in his leg, Thrash dropped to his knees beside the man and slammed his palm down onto the bridge of his nose, crushing his head against the floor. Thrash hit him again, and again, crushing the bones in the man's face. The first time he hit, the man jerked violently, but after a few blows, he stopped moving.

Panting, Thrash took the man's blaster rifle and crawled back into his room. His leg was pulsing blood, causing it to seep out around him as he crawled. When he made it into his room, Thrash pulled himself over to a cabinet and sat up to open it.

He rummaged clumsily through the shelves, trying to focus against the pain. He found his medical kit and opened it beside him. First he took out a small vibroblade, with a long handle and very small, precise cutting edge. He opened a slit along his pants leg and tore it aside to see his leg.

It was tough to tell in the dim emergency lighting, but he could see a long gash running down the side of his calf. Periodic spurts of blood made him shudder, and he fought down nausea. Taking a small bottle with a spray nozzle, Thrash depressed the trigger and waved it back and forth over his leg. Cool liquid covered his wound, dulling the pain and rinsing away some of the blood.

Thrash sighed in relief and reached inside the medical kit to take out a small foil package. He tore it open and used the damp cloth inside to wipe his leg clean, a tickling numbness already spreading across his calf.

Next he injected the wound with a booster shot of bacta, and sprayed medigel foam over the gash to seal it up. Propping himself up on the blaster rifle, Thrash stood and limped out the door.

…

Elohirnok ran up a set of stairs towards the sound of blaster fire. He reached the top, blaster pistol held firmly in front of him in both hands, only to see Lachance standing in the middle of a room. There were three dismembered insurgents scattered around, and Lachance held a short handled vibroaxe. He looked at Elohirnok and smiled, his cold eyes seeming to twinkle in the red emergency light.

Elohirnok lowered his pistol and approached, "Ok, Lachance. What do we have here?"

"Not quite sure, but they were wearing explosive vests. I don't think they intend to be taken alive, so I obliged them."

"Nice, follow me up to the surface. We're following the evacuation plan until we get more information."

Lachance silently falls in behind Elohirnok and they leave the room. As they walk, Elohirnok keeps his blaster aimed down the hallway and Lachance periodically checks behind them. They move quietly but quickly, and soon get to a hallway intersection. Down one path is a set of turbolifts, and Elohirnok leads them towards it.

From behind them, a trooper armed with a blaster pistol comes around the corner. Lachance shouts out a warning, and the trooper raises his hands, "I'm a friendly! Hold your fire!"

Elohirnok calls out, "Identify yourself, trooper!"

"Sergeant Taunik, Second Fleet Marine Force, fifth regiment."

"Good to see you sergeant, I'm Lieutenant Halal, Special Missions Team. This is Lachance, he's a contractor."

Bemused, Lachance raises his eyebrows and Elohirnok shoots him a dark look. Lachance smiles slightly and proceeds to the turbolifts. The doors open readily and the three of them step inside and ride the lift up to one of the landing platforms.

At the top, the doors swing open, revealing a scene of nightmarish destruction. Half a dozen ships on the landing platform have been destroyed with explosives, and fires are burning all around the compound. Smoke is swirling in the air, limiting visibility. Bodies are scattered across the landing pad.

Directly in front of them is a man dressed in a loose, pleated black tunic and pants. His face is covered in red and black geometric tattoos. He turns at the sound of the doors opening and leaps forward, charging the turbolift.

Elohirnok's arm twitches like a snake, flashing into firing position and squeezing off a bolt from his pistol. The bright bolt streaks at the man and hits him in the chest, but he barely flinches. Lachance swings his vibroaxe at him as he moves into the turbolift, but the tattooed man gracefully ducks under the axe and sends a powerful kick at Lachance, striking him in the hip and slamming him against the turbolift wall.

Elohirnok dives out of the turbolift, tucking and rolling to his feet. Sergeant Taunik fires from the hip at the tattooed man, but he twists to the side and strikes Taunik in the throat with his hand, dropping him to the ground. Lachance recovers and lunges forward, swinging his axe up at the tattooed man's thigh.

The tattooed man glides around the axe blade and aims another kick at Lachance, who anticipates this and changes the angle of his swing to meet the man's leg. With a wet thwack, the vibroaxe cuts deep into the man's leg. Fury twists the tattooed man's face and he thrusts his palm out at Lachance, throwing him backwards with the Force.

Elohirnok is on his feet and spins around, crouching down and firing his blaster rapidly at the tattooed man just as he throws Lachance aside. Elohirnok's aim is flawless, and the man is hit twice in the torso before he gestures with his hand and rips Elohirnok's blaster out of his grip. Lachance drops his axe and rolls out of the turbolift, pulling a pair of thermal detonators from his vest. He arms them with his thumbs and rolls them back into the turbolift before twisting to the side and turning away from the explosion.

Elohirnok turns and dives away from the turbolift, going prone with his feet towards the doors. The tattooed man glances down as the thermal detonators clatter to the ground at his feet. His eyes widen and he springs out of the turbolift with a Force-powered leap. He is barely off the ground before the detonators explode in a flash. Heat and light fill the small turbolift, and the shockwave tosses the tattooed man through the air like a rag doll.

The force of the explosion rattles Elohirnok's body, and leaves a ringing in his ears. He pushes himself to a low crouch and pulls his disruptor pistol from his holster, looking around for the tattooed man. He spots him a good distance away, also getting to his feet.

With a grim smile, Elohirnok lines up a shot. The man seems to flinch at the last instant, as Elohirnok sends a white disruptor bolt flying from the barrel of his weapon. The bolt passes the man's ear as he jerks aside and looks behind him, a vicious smile twisting his face grotesquely.

Elohirnok continues firing, spraying a deadly stream of disruptor bolts at the tattooed man, but he moves too quickly for Elohirnok to properly track, speeding along the landing platform and dropping off the edge. The tattooed man catches the lip of the platform with his hands before swinging away into the smoke.

Lachance joins Elohirnok at the edge of the platform, holding a vibroblade. The two of them exchange a steady nod and look over the side, but there is no sign of the tattooed man. Elohirnok carefully lowers his disruptor and turns in a circle, looking around.

"What in the Maw was that?" He asks.

Lachance sheathes his weapon and draws a small holdout blaster from behind him, "A lot of fun."

Elohirnok glares at him, "Sure, that was fun. I'm not sure about you, but I would be perfectly fine never seeing that son of a Huttscum again."

Lachance laughs softly, "Oh, no, that would be such a disappointment. I need to dance with him again."

"Great, just great. The deranged assassin is in love."

The two of them walk back to the turbolift and Elohirnok stops, eyes widening with realization.

"Oh, no… you careless idiot!"

Lachance looks puzzled for a moment, then smiles, "What? Ah, right. Our new friend."

Elohirnok rounds on him, furious. He grabs Lachance by the collar and pulls him in, "Listen closely to me, and wipe that grin off your face. I was responsible for that man, I led him up here, and he's dead."

Lachance becomes quiet and nods slowly, "Very well, Lieutenant Halal. I suppose I can respect that."

"You'll damn well respect it! I get that your job is sowing mayhem and murder, but you will not kill our people, am I clear?"

"Perfectly, Lieutenant. I was rather… careless." He admits.

Elohirnok looks inside the blackened interior of the turbolift and winces, "Now's neither the time nor place for it, but we still need to discuss what happened to Tonnor. For now, though, let's find out what's happening."

"I admit, the situation does look rather grim."

Elohirnok places his hands on his hips and surveys the landing pad, "We'll check for survivors up here, then see if there's a way to get back into the compound. These vehicles are trashed and so is the turbolift. Do you have a comlink?"

Lachance nods, smiling, "I'm always prepared for exciting situations, Lieutenant."

"Elohirnok will work for now, you know."

…

Elohirnok collapsed into a chair, exhausting seeping into his very bones. His eyes closed involuntarily and he felt himself sliding away from consciousness. He had a vague sense that he couldn't sleep yet, but for the life of him could not come up with a reason.

Lachance shook his shoulder, jarring Elohirnok awake. His eyes snapped open and he leaned back in surprise. He started to rise, pushing himself up out of the chair, "Give me a status report, where is the team on level seventeen? Have they checked in?"

A nearby soldier answers slowly, "Sir… we secured level seventeen two hours ago. There are only two insurgents unaccounted for. We have teams combing the compound for additional survivors."

"Oh. Wait, we secured level seventeen?" Elohirnok answered, slipping back into the chair.

"Yes, sir."

The sharp click of boots across the plasteel floor tilings announced the arrival of another officer. Elohirnok looked up and saw an man of perhaps sixty years, wearing a grey Alliance uniform. General Wedge Antilles entered the room, and Elohirnok stands and comes to attention.

Wedge smiles ruefully, "At ease, Lieutenant. No need for that, I no longer hold any formal rank. You can get some sleep, I've been admiring your work here, organizing the efforts to recover the compound."

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad you approve."

"You look familiar, son. Have we met before?"

Elohirnok grins quickly, "Yes, sir. I flew for Wraith Squadron, during the war."

"Ah, that would explain it. Well, you've done the Wraiths proud today. I'll take it from here, you look like you're ready to sleep for a year."

Elohirnok nods and leaves the room in a daze, looking for a bed.

…

In the detention cells deep within the Crix Madine Military Reserve, power had not yet been restored. The faint red emergency panels played tricks on the eye due to the dust floating in the air. No explosives had been used in this part of the base, but detritus had filled the air.

Lachance flitted from shadow to shadow, gliding down hallways and stairs, avoiding turbolifts. As he descended into the detention blocks, he checked each cell. Most were unoccupied, but a few held prisoners taken by the Galactic Alliance Guard. Lachance was not concerned with them.

As he explored, he heard voices and moved towards them. At the end of a hallway, two troopers stood guard by a blast door. Waiting out of sight, Lachance watched them for several minutes. When one of them rose and opened the blast door, he moved in.

The trooper turned to his companion, saying, "I'm going to do another round, make sure the emergency power on the force cages is holding."

"Alright, hurry up though, we're due to be relieved in ten minutes."

As the first trooper walked through the blast door, Lachance drew closer. The blast door closed. Lachance padded silently across the floor, drawing a vibroblade and concealing it behind his wrist.

"Excuse me, trooper."

The guard stands up, holding his rifle, "Halt! This is a restricted sector, who goes there?"

"I'm here for a prisoner, Stefan Del Versio? He was brought in yesterday by a Special Missions Team. Is he here?"

The guard hesitates, "Yes, I think he is. But I'll need to see authorization from the warden for this level before I can turn him over to you."

Lachance smiles stepping forward, "I don't think that will be necessary, actually."

He lunges and grabs the guard's rifle with his left hand, pulling him forward. The guard holds onto his weapon and twists it over, trapping Lachance's arm. Allowing himself to be grappled, Lachance pulls in close and drives his vibroblade up into the inside of the guard's thigh.

The guard's eyes go wide and Lachance twists the vibroblade and yanks it out, stabbing again beneath the guard's sternum. The guard grunts, breathing out as he goes limp and slides to the floor. Lachance rummages through his pockets until he finds a keycard and uses it to open the blast door.

He runs through, spotting the other trooper up ahead. Lachance takes his sniper rifle off his back and wraps the sling around his arm, crouching down and taking aim. He breathes out slowly and squeezes the trigger. His blast catches the trooper in the back of the neck and drops him instantly.

Lachance stands up and moves down the corridor, checking each cell. A crackling yellow energy field covers the entrance to every cell. Lachance swipes the keycard at every cell where he finds a prisoner, shooting them without a word. Finally he finds Stefan and opens his cell.

Stefan looks up as the energy field switches off, "My, isn't this a surprise?"

Lachance lowers his rifle, "Have you been debriefed yet?"

"Surprisingly, no. I think there was a small commotion upstairs and they got distracted."

Lachance doesn't smile, his face a stern mask, "I recorded the security logs from the ship we arrived on, and erased them from the ship's memory core."

"That's an interesting thing to do." Stefan muses.

"The recordings of Tonnor's death need never come to light, but if they should become public knowledge, any court in the Alliance will convict you of murder."

Stefan laughs, "Murder? And what of you? Your disregard for life is almost comical."

"I was operating within the bounds of my directives from Alliance Intelligence. My skills are still in sufficient demand that I have a certain amount of leeway in executing my orders. I will shoulder the responsibility for your petty little act of vengeance, but in exchange, I want something from you."

Stefan's voice becomes cold, "I will not be blackmailed."

Lachance smiles without any apparent happiness, "It's nothing really, just a little thing. Hardly anything to ask in return for your freedom, and my silence."

"My freedom?"

"Yes. Do as I request and I will lead you out of here. The guards are dead, and they will assume you were captured or killed as part of the attack. The perfect opportunity to outrun your enemies, and I imagine they're multiplying rather fast at the moment."

Stefan considers this for a long time, sitting in his cell. Finally, he stands up, "Very well. What is it that you want?"

Lachance laughs, low and ominously.

…

Thrash sits up slowly, careful not to move his leg. He is in the Valorum Military Hospital on Coruscant, along with numerous other casualties from the night before. Looking around, he is surprised to see Haytham sitting across the room.

"Sergeant Ordo, you're finally awake."

"Looks like it. I was kind of enjoying those sedatives they gave me, and the nurse was cute, too…"

Haytham throws his head back and laughs, "Ah, but to be young again."

"Ah, so I appreciate you checking in on me and all, but don't you have… you know, Jedi things to do?"

"How fortunate you mention that, I had almost forgotten."

Thrash looks incredulously at Haytham, at a loss for words.

Haytham smiles, "Sergeant, I'm not really sure how to go this, so I'm just going to ask you right now if you'd like to come to the Jedi Temple when you've recovered."

Thrash shifts uncomfortably, "Somehow I don't think you mean for a casual visit, sir."

"Sventrare swears that you're Force sensitive, and I thought you might be interested in taking some tests, perhaps undergoing some training."

"Wow. I don't know, that's… that's something, isn't it?"

Haytham stands up, "When you've recovered, pay us a visit. You don't have to do anything, but if you are capable of Jedi training, I would be honored to have you as an apprentice."

He turns and walks out of the room, leaving Thrash bewildered.

…

Jedi Master Zhayne sat with Sventrare in the elder Jedi's quarters in the Jedi Temple. The two Jedi were sitting opposite each other, each cross legged on a small cushioned bench. Sventrare has folded both pairs of arms across his chest, and gives Master Zhayne a long, pondering look before saying, "Master Zhayne, do you think your visions are related to the ones I told you about?"

Zhayne bows his head and folds his hands, closing his eyes, "I cannot be certain, Sven. There is a foreboding presence in the Force around you, but I cannot say if it is related to this young soldier, Sergeant Ordo."

"Should I take him as an apprentice, if he proves to have the aptitude?"

Zhayne looks surprised, "Sven, you have only just become a Jedi Knight yourself. Perhaps you should wait a few years before training an apprentice. These things are not undertaken lightly."

Sventrare nods, accepting what Zhayne has said.

"Master Zhayne… some of the reports from the military reserve mention the presence of Force users during the attacks last night."

Zhayne's reply is thoughtful, "I had heard similar rumors. I will bring them to Grand Master Skywalker's attention, although I am sure that the Military Advisory Council will consult him about this."

"Yes, that does bring something else to mind."

"What is that?"

Sventrare shifts his weight on the bench, leaning forward and unfolding his lower arms and placing them on his knees.

"I am starting to become uncomfortable with the methods used by Alliance Intelligence. I would welcome another assignment, perhaps if someone is needed to investigate these rumors, you could put my name forward?"

Zhayne furrows his brow and asks, "Why are you bothered by your current assignment, Sven?"

"It's been a gradual process, but when I found out that the informant I helped deliver from Corellia had been detained after I was promised he would be released, I realized that I couldn't work with Intelligence any more."

Sventrare takes a heavy breath before continuing, "Last night, that informant was killed while in captivity. I gave my word to see him to safety, and instead I delivered him to a cell that he died in."

Zhayne nods understandingly, "I am sorry to hear that, Sven. I will try to find a replacement to take your place on this assignment. It will be rather difficult, though. Most of our order are spread throughout the Mid Rim, helping with the reconstruction projects. The Alliance insists on keeping a number of Jedi available for missions like yours, and until someone returns from the Mid Rim, there aren't any replacements available."

Sventrare frowns, "We're independent from the Alliance government, though. The High Council advises them, but I thought the Jedi Order was free to do as it saw fit."

"That is somewhat true, but in recent years we've been trying to reach a compromise with the Senate. In exchange for Jedi undertaking more peacekeeping missions, we're able to guarantee additional funding for certain reconstruction efforts. It's a delicate balance, but we're bound by a number of agreements the High Council has made with various departments of the government."

Sventrare stands up carefully, "I understand, Master Zhayne. Thank you for your counsel, I think I will take my concerns about the nature of my missions to Colonel Raven."

"Good luck, Sven. Be careful in the weeks to come, I can feel the dark side weighing heavily on us all."

…


	5. Chapter 11

Kayta left the Alliance outpost on Nar Shaddaa, which was little more than a small spaceport, and returned to the salvage camp. She would have to tell Kael that Chorba's story checked out, Weekchawa had sold the construction droids to the Alliance.

The salvage camp was built in and around the bases of several destroyed buildings, with a flimsy wall made out of scrap metal surrounding the perimeter. Several of Chorba's hired guns, mostly Duros and Twi'leks, patrolled the wall's exterior.

Reaching the main gate, which was little more than a reinforced door, Kayta announced herself and was admitted to the camp. The activity of the day was winding down, various workshops and yards where engines, generators, and other components were being assembled or worked on had fallen silent. A few children still ran down the twisting pathways that led through the camp, but most of the camp's residents had gone inside the shelters constructed against the bases of the larger buildings.

As she passed the small metal hut that Alaric, the doctor, used as his office, she heard someone sobbing and moaning in pain. Moving to investigate, she knocked loudly on Alaric's door.

A gaunt, aging man opened the door. Wisps of white hair were pulled back into a loose ponytail, and he wore a stained surgical gown over rugged clothing. His tone was gruff and melancholy, "Yes, Kayta? What is it now?"

"Doctor Alaric, I don't mean to disturb you. I just wondered who you were treating, and if you needed any help."

"Too late for that, although I could have used your assistance earlier today. Had to treat quite a few casualties."

Kayta looked surprised, and inquired, "What happened?"

Alaric grumbles and waves his hand, "More of those Exchange fools, raising a ruckus. Chorba's men fought them off, but I hear they carried off a few of the kids and blew up the main generator. We'll be a few days without power, I bet."

"Oh no, who was hurt?"

"Whole lot of folks, I lost track. Treated a lot of plasma burns, it starts to blur together. Find out for yourself, I sent everyone home who wasn't going to die."

Kayta's face falls, "Doctor! Who was killed?"

"Don't get like that. None of the kids, that I know of. Two mechanics from the guild, some guards, that Wookie who ran the spare parts shop… ah, I think that's it."

Kayta sets her shoulders and steels herself, "I'll talk to Chorba. We need to reinforce the walls, the next shipment we bring in should be used to do that."

Alaric shrugs, "Best of luck, but without your Kael around the scrap expeditions have been pulling in considerably less. Varrick is getting rather impatient."

"I'll deal with Varrick. Have a good evening, doctor."

Kayta turns and storms off to find Varrick, the commander of Chorba's men at the salvage camp.

…

Jacen Solo stands in front of a holocommunicator mounted on a conference table. He is resting his hands on the back of a chair, looking exacerbated. In front of him, Han Solo's image is projected above the table.

"Father, I understand. But you haven't lived on Corellia in years, you can't claim to understand the political climate there."

"Jacen, I know you think your old man is going senile these days, but hear me out. Corellia doesn't want war, the people of Corellia just want to feel like they're getting a fair deal. They'll come to the negotiating table but you can't force them there on their knees. That will just backfire."

Jacen turns away, conflicted, "You say that, but look at what's happening here on Coruscant. The attack on the Crix Madine Reserve was too coordinated, too well planned. They had inside help, they had to. I can't ignore the possibility that the terrorists I'm hunting are operating with the full support of CorSec."

Han Solo shakes his head, "It's a faction, no more. You need to appeal to the Corellians, let them sort this out internally. Let them know that they need to speak up and tell their leaders what they want."

Jacen looks at Han, "I would love to believe you, but this isn't the era you grew up in, father. The Corellians had their chance to negotiate, in the Senate chambers. They elected leaders who chose to break the law, boycott the reconstruction taxes, and now I've learned that they were using that tax money to fund terrorists here on Coruscant."

"Just remember who you're fighting, Jacen. Don't let this divide the Alliance any more than it already has. We all fought too hard to build this government to see it disintegrate like this."

A cold determination enters Jacen's eyes, " I know who I'm fighting. I won't let the Alliance be broken, don't worry."

The door behind Jacen opens and Colonel Raven walks in. Jacen says to Han, "I have to go, say hello to mom for me."

He ends the connection and offers the colonel a seat.

"Colonel Raven, I'm so glad you were able to see me. Have you finished decrypting those files our team got from Corellia?"

Raven smiles and sets a large datapad onto the table, "Of course, Master Solo. It would appear that the situation is quite dire. The first priority, I believe, is the existence of a proton torpedo factory that the rebels have constructed on Adumar. Given the funding that went into this facility, I believe that it represents a serious threat to our fleet if these weapons are allowed to flow freely into the hands of the rebels."

Jacen pulls out a chair and sits down, pulling the datapad across the table, "Is the factory heavily defended?"

"Perhaps. It has air defense towers, and I was able to extrapolate that some of the expenditures went to battle droids, which are presumably defending the facility."

"Admiral Niathal is vetting the fleets, we're still not sure which officers are completely loyal. I might be able to send a few frigates to bombard the factory site, however."

Raven clasps his hands and takes a short breath, looking at the datapad between them on the table, "I do not think that would be advisable. Bombardment of the facility would represent both a waste of potential intelligence and a serious hazard to the climate of the surrounding area. Many of the chemicals used in the production of proton torpedoes are hazardous."

Jacen nods, "I see. What about the team that got this information in the first place? There are two Jedi attached, I believe. Sventrare and Haytham, right?"

"That is correct. I was going to suggest an operation like that, perhaps your Guard could furnish a platoon of troops to accompany them?"

Shaking his head, Jacen replies, "I don't think that's possible. I'm tapped out, my men are deployed across Coruscant in response to the attack on Crix Madine."

Raven frowns, thinking. He leans back in his chair and reaches into his jacket, taking out a small silver case, "Do you mind, Master Solo?"

"Not at all, go ahead."

Raven takes out a blue deathstick and ignites it, placing it idly in his mouth before continuing, "I could pull some marines from the Fourth Fleet, they haven't deployed yet. Twenty ought to do it, and the Special Missions Team already has a ship… yes, I think we can pull that operation off."

Jacen smiles, "You never disappoint, colonel. While you're here, there are some other matters I'd like to discuss with you."

"By all means, Master Solo, you have my undivided attention."

"Excellent. The first thing is the matter of General Antilles. He has a lot of supporters in the military, and removing him from command has caused an uproar. He's been making statements and while he claims to still be loyal to the Alliance, I'm not sure that we can afford to let him keep sowing dissent.

Raven puffs on his deathstick slowly, nodding.

"I will look into the matter, see who he's been in contact with and what he might be up to."

…

Thrash walked along the wide avenue that led to the Jedi Temple. His leg hurt, but he had chosen not to take any painkillers this morning. Constant bacta injections had sped the healing process enough that he could walk on his leg and he wanted to be sharp.

Haytham was standing near the entrance to the temple, a wide archway flanked on each side by a row of towering statues. Haytham wore his usual blue vest and tunic with a short black cloak and his officer's boots.

"Good morning, Specialist Ordo. How is your leg doing?"

Thrash gestures vaguely, "It's better than it was, you know. I was kind of hoping to get a cybernetic leg, but the doctor told me I'm stuck with this one for the time being."

Haytham laughs lightly, "You will appreciate having both legs someday, I'm sure. Are you ready to begin the trials?"

"Well, you make it sound so official. I guess I'll give it a shot."

They walk through the archway, into the base of the massive pyramid that forms the heart of the Jedi Order. There are very few turbolifts in the temple, and they have to walk for a long time before they reach the training grounds in the sublevels of the temple.

Here, Haytham leads Thrash into a large gymnasium filled with various blocks, obstacles, and other assorted training equipment. Numerous Jedi apprentices are taking their paces, attacking obstacle courses, scrambling across ropes and beams. In several places, pairings of Jedi spar with training lightsabers or plasteel rods under the watchful eye of an instructor.

Ben Skywalker is in a large circle surrounded by a knee high wall, dueling two other Jedi with training lightsabers. Haytham stops to watch, and Thrash leans against a nearby permacrete block, resting his leg.

Ben moves quickly, his footwork sure and swift. He carefully keeps the other two Jedi in front of him, circling and parrying. They press the attack, trying to box him in, and he jumps up suddenly. Striking downwards, Ben lands a blow on one Jedi's shoulder as he somersaults over him.

The other Jedi swings at Ben as his feet his the ground, and he reaches behind him with his lightsaber, blocking the strike and twisting around, forcing the Jedi's lightsaber aside. Now Ben lunges, driving the Jedi back.

The first Jedi has stepped out of the circle, eliminated from the duel. Ben moves quickly, pushing his advantage and keeping the other Jedi off balance. In desperation, the Jedi makes a wide swing at Ben. In a flash, he parries and makes a tight circle with the tip of his blade, twirling the Jedi's lightsaber out of his hand and sending it soaring into the air.

The Jedi raises his hands in defeat, chagrined. Several nearby instructors applaud, and Haytham nudges Thrash, "That kid is pretty sharp. I've got some other tests in mind for you, however. I know you can handle the physical aspect of training, so you'll have an accelerated start."

Leading Thrash through the training ground, Haytham takes him into a side chamber that has several crates of small metal ball bearings stacked near the door, but is otherwise empty. Scooping a handful up, Haytham directs Thrash to stand in the center of the room.

Haytham taps a console near the door and a panel on the wall slides open, revealing a number of helmets with opaque blast shields. He takes one out and hands it to Thrash, saying, "Put this on, and relax. Breathe slowly and evenly."

Thrash grins, "Yeah yeah yeah, I get the idea."

He poses dramatically in the center of the room and lowers the helmet over his head with both hands. Haytham rolls his eyes slightly, the hint of a smile crossing his face. He reaches out and scatters a fistful of ball bearings into the air, levitating them with the Force.

He floats the metal spheres out around Thrash, positioning them randomly. Haytham kneels down on the floor, closing his eyes and reaching out through the Force. He detects Thrash's presence, a vibrant sensation that pulses with amusement and enthusiasm.

"Envision the room around you, do try to remember what it looks like, just try to see the ball bearings."

"Not totally sure what you want here, but I'll try."

Haytham senses Thrash through the Force. Through immense concentration, he suppresses his active senses and pushes him towards contact with the Force. Thrash inhales sharply, "Whoa, I can feel… or it's more like…"

"Silence, Specialist Ordo. Try to point to one of the ball bearings."

Thrash hesitantly reaches out, his hand wandering for a moment before coming to a rest, pointing direction at one of the ball bearings. Haytham lets it fall to the floor, "Good, now another."

Slowly, Thrash finds all of them and eventually Haytham lets the last ball bearing drop to the floor.

"Remove the helmet. That was very good, near the end I barely had to prompt you to reach out through the Force."

Thrash pulls off the helmet, his hair tangled with sweat, "That was intense. Did I really point to the bearings?"

Haytham chuckles, "Of course. It's hard to believe at first, but you'll learn to trust your feelings. Eventually, we'll move on to deflecting blaster fire. That's the real test of your senses."

"This is really something, Haytham. I just don't think I can commit to the Jedi right now."

Haytham stands up,"There's no need to worry. I can begin your training while we travel between assignments. After Colonel Raven is done with us, you can request assignment to the Jedi Order if you so desire, and I will take you on as my padawan learner."

Thrash shrugs, "I can't really argue with that. So what's next?"

…

Elohirnok's sister, Sera, walked into the small café and looked around for her brother. Spotting him sitting in a corner booth, she went over and sat down.

Elohirnok smiled at her, "Good to see you, I'm glad you had a chance to grab some liberty while we're both on Coruscant."

She returns his smile, "We'd see each other more if you weren't so secretive, Lohi."

"It's not my fault everything I do is classified these days. Besides, you spent the last year on patrol along the Hydian Way."

"My husband was assigned to the fleet medical corps, so I requested a billet that would keep me near him."

Elohirnok throws his hands up, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you could have it both ways. It's 'Lohi, you never call.' One minute, then the next it's 'My darling husband needs me, I can't let him out of my sight!'"

Sera glares at Elohirnok and he laughs deviously, "You see my point, of course. No sense in complaining. Besides, the first break I get in months, I call you up for lunch, sis."

"I appreciate that. How have you been?"

Elohirnok smiles easily, "You know, the same old. Roughing up scumbags and shooting traitors."

"Dad would be so proud. Are you still flying?"

"Not as much as when I was with the Wraiths, but I did get a chance to test out a very nice Corellian ship a few days ago. It's, ah… quite maneuverable. Holds up well against turbolasers, too."

Sera laughs, "I don't even want to know what kind of trouble you were up to. Just stay off the HoloNets, alright?"

"Hey, my operations only turn up in the news when they go horribly awry."

Sera looks concerned, "That's kind of my point, Lohi. I keep checking the news, especially with the Corellian situation getting worse every day. I was just reassigned to the Fourth Fleet, and we're preparing for an immediate deployment."

A young Zabrak waitress walks over, carrying a tray of food. As she sets it down, Elohirnok says to Sera, "I took the liberty of ordering the usual, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, it's nice to know some things don't change"

The waitress places their dishes in front of them and says pleasantly, "Let me know if you need anything else, enjoy."

Nodding to her, Elohirnok pulls over his plate and waits politely for Sera to take the first bite. For a few minutes, they eat in silence before Sera looks up, questioningly.

"Lohi, I meant to ask, have you seen anyone since—"

He cuts her off, "—No. I've been too busy. Not really any time for that."

"I was just wondering. Dad asked me the last time we spoke, he said you still wouldn't talk about it."

Growing stern, Elohirnok says, "What, you didn't take his word for it?"

Looking defensive, Sera replies, "Alright, alright. It was just a question. Sisters are allowed to ask about these things, you know."

Elohirnok smiles weakly, "Well, it's classified. Sorry… Tell me how our father's doing, I gave him a call a few weeks ago but I guess he was out on business."

…

The Alliance Fourth Fleet dropped out of hyperspace in the Corellia system almost simultaneously. Over a dozen capital ships and numerous supporting vessels comprised the core of the fleet. Spread symmetrically around the main body of the fleet, a picket ring of smaller frigates popped back into realspace.

Fightercraft swarmed out from capital ships, forming up into flights and squadrons and spreading out. The larger warships powered up their shields and engaged sublight drives, lumbering towards Corellia itself.

On the bridge of the _Dauntless_, Admiral Rotobo stood beside the ship's captain, a Calamari officer who had served with the ship since it was launched five years ago. Admiral Rotobo leaned over a console and keyed the fleetwide communications channel.

"All ships, set shields to maximum power and deploy along the hyperspace route. Squadron leaders, maintain your distance from Corellian Security forces. Do not engage unless they refuse to stand down."

The various commanders responded, and the fleet moved into position. Civilian traffic scattered, and any ships which did not retreat to Corellia were captured with tractor beams and boarded by marines. Several CorSec frigates fled to Corellia, seeking low orbit and sheltering behind the orbital platforms.

The Fourth Fleet quickly cut off the hyperspace routes leading away from Corellia, and set up gravity wells to pull any ships passing along the route back into realspace. The Corellian Security fleet put up no initial resistance, although a few outlying patrols were captured and boarded.

…

The elegant yacht where Kael had negotiated Chorba's weapons contract was now near the system of Bothawui, home to the Bothans. It lingered near the outskirts of the system as a shuttle approached it and the hangar bay doors on the yacht pulled open to admit the shuttle.

Alliance admiral Nec Bwua'tu, a tall silver furred Bothan walked down the boarding ramp of the shuttle into the pristine white hangar bay. Several of the men who had met with Kael were there to greet Admiral Bwua'tu, and the one with the neat white beard stepped forward, bowing and extending his hand, "Admiral, we are so pleased that you could accept our invitation."

Bwua'tu returns the bow solemnly, "These are grave times and serious matters, I could not afford to miss this opportunity."

The bearded man indicates the nearby door leading out of the hangar, "Indeed they are, admiral. If you would follow me, perhaps we can discuss the command of Bothawui's fleet?"

Walking with the bearded man and his companions, Admiral Bwua'tu replies, "Certainly. The Bothan intelligence networks relayed the message to me from the ruling council. I would be honored to assume command of the fleet."

They walk through the door, and along smooth passageways made of white plasteel. The bearded man continues, "I recently received word, through your people's vaunted intelligence networks, that our experimental proton torpedoes had been delivered to the assault cruisers. Unfortunately, our shipyards have only recently reached capacity, and we have a severe shortage of fighters."

Admiral Bwua'tu nods, "I have been discussing the strategic situation via secure hololink with the other commanders, and they feel that if General Antilles can be swayed to our side, the greater portion of the fighter corps will follow his example."

"That would alleviate many of our problems; do you think he will be willing to join us? His recent public statements, while rather inflammatory, gave no indication that he sympathized with our cause."

The group enters a large turbolift, and the bearded man indicates to the guard standing inside which deck to take them to. When the doors swing shut, he continues to the admiral, "Furthermore, Colonel Solo, Han's son, has been moving faster than we anticipated. With his help, and his jackbooted Guards, Admiral Niathal has managed to capture and imprison many of our allies within the fleets."

"I had heard, but fortunately those two only have influence and power near Coruscant. The Fourth Fleet is under their thumb, but my own ships were quite out of their reach. My ship commanders are completely loyal, and will soon purge any elements from the crew who refuse to join us. The First Fleet will set out for Corellia as soon as I give the order."

The bearded man smiles broadly, "Ah, but admiral, we have entirely different plans for the First Fleet. Since you will be assuming control of the newly christened Bothan fleet, our strategic council thought it best to appoint another trusted officer to command your old fleet."

Admiral Bwua'tu frowns at first, but then relents, "The Bothan fleet is sufficient to operate independently. If not Corellia, where would we move the First Fleet?"

"When we reach the war room, and you can see for yourself the details of the plan, I think you will appreciate the elegance of our uses for the First Fleet."

…


	6. Chapter 12

Elohirnok and Lachance approached the ship they had taken from Corellia. A brief investigation had shown that the ship's transponder codes had been changed several times, but the original name of the vessel had been the _Sol Eternal._

Elohirnok supervised the detachment of marines from the Fourth Fleet as they loaded their supplies into the cargo hold. There were twenty of them, all told, led by a platoon sergeant named Harun. The marines carried up crates of ammunition, water, and field rations, stacking them in the cargo hold.

Sventrare arrived on the landing pad and stowed his gear aboard the Sol Eternal before reviewing the message he had received from Colonel Raven. The instructions were fairly clear:

_Special Missions Team 17, recent events have made it urgent that you re-task to Adumar. Proceed to coordinates indicated and investigate the existence of an illegal weapons factory. Capture or eliminate any hostile personnel encountered. Avoid detention by enemy forces. Twenty marines have been assigned from the _Peacebringer_, use them to secure the facility on Adumar. Casualties are acceptable but discouraged. Swift action is of the essence._

_Respectfully, Col. Raven_

_Alliance Intelligence Operations Command_

Sventrare frowned at these instructions and tapped Elohirnok on the shoulder, "Excuse me, Lieutenant, it seems the good Colonel was rather succinct in his orders. What exactly is this factory?"

Elohirnok turns away from the marines and answers, "You'll have to forgive Colonel Raven, things are a total mess since the attack on Crix Madine. The insurgents killed a large portion of the command staff and intel has been going berserk putting the details together."

"A large portion of the command staff? I wasn't aware…"

Concern sweeps across Elohirnok's face, "Ah, keep that fairly quiet. The reason you haven't heard is that we're keeping the details out of the public eye until we can clearly demonstrate what happened. There are tons of crazy theories flying around, right up to there being traitors on the advisory council. It's ridiculous."

Sventrare adopts his characteristic stance of contemplation, both pairs of arms crossed.

"In that case, I will look at the maps Colonel Raven sent us and wait for Specialist Ordo and Haytham to arrive."

"Good plan, please excuse me while I make sure these marines don't stack the explosives in the engine room…"

…

Onboard the _Sol_ _Eternal_, Elohirnok checked that the marines were squared away without issue and then found Lachance in the crew quarters. The assassin turned around quickly when he walked in, his hand dropping to his side. When he saw who it was, he relaxed slightly.

"Lieutenant, can I help you?"

"I don't know, can you? I said we'd talk about what you did to Sergeant Taunik."

"Look," Lachance says cautiously, "there wasn't much else I could have done. That fellow attacking us wasn't going to be stopped by anything short of me blowing him into tiny particles."

Elohirnok narrows his eyes, "That's hardly an excuse. Do you even care that you killed a helpless man?"

Lachance laughs harshly, then stops himself. He looks at Elohirnok, raising an eyebrow, "Really, Elohirnok? What were you going to do to save him?"

Anger fills Elohirnok, "I wouldn't have killed him myself, that's for damn sure! If he was killed in combat, that's one thing, but for you to ensure that he died? That's not just friendly fire, it's downright cold blooded."

Lachance leans against the nearest bunk and speaks in a flat tone, "Yes. That's my job, however. To be cold blooded, to kill. What good would it do Sergeant Taunik if our attacker had killed us? He would have died just the same, but this way, one of can get around to avenging him some day."

"You didn't have to fill out his casualty report, Lachance. You didn't have to gloss over the fact that he was really killed by his own people, without any sort of warning. His commanding officer recommended him for an award, based on my report… I had to leave out some of the details, and Intelligence worked my report over even further. His family is never going to know…"

As Elohirnok looks down, his voice becoming introspective, Lachance steps forward. He hesitates for a moment, then puts his hand on Elohirnok's shoulder, "Perhaps that's for the best. He didn't hesitate to come with us, he went after the enemy when the compound was attacked. I killed him, trying to kill the other guy. Would it have made it different if he hadn't escaped?"

Elohirnok meets his gaze, expression softening, "I suppose not… I _will_ kill that man. Whoever he is, if I find him again."

Lachance steps back, "I certainly would like a second round with him, I hate when my prey gets away from me."

…

With the Sol Eternal underway for Adumar, the marines settled into the cargo hold, converting it into a barracks. Sventrare and Haytham took to meditating in the crew quarters, which in turn drove Lachance to take shelter with Elohirnok up near the cockpit or the lounge.

Thrash studied with Haytham, who tried to use every opportunity to instruct the young soldier. Thrash was an eager student, and paid close attention. He was humble enough to ask for assistance, but confident enough to try anything on his own.

Thrash stood in the crew quarters, wearing a helmet with the opaque blast shield covering his eyes. Haytham levitated a set of ball bearings around him, slowly moving them about and changing their positions, making it more challenging for Thrash.

When he had located the last ball bearing, he points to it. Nothing happens. Thrash lowers his hand, reaching out around him through the Force and sensing the ball bearing again. He points at it, and tracks its motion with his finger.

Haytham says, "Knock it down yourself, with the Force."

Thrash struggles, concentrating to no effect. His mouth tightens as he focuses, and while he can sense the ball, there is nothing he can do to it. Haytham watches passively for a few moments before speaking, "You need to relax. The Force cannot be muscled into cooperation, it is like a current. You have to guide it. Let go and draw the Force into yourself, allow it to follow your direction, but do not try to control it directly."

Thrash begins to relax, attempting to focus the energies he senses around himself. The ball bearing quivers, jerking towards the floor before resuming its orbit around him. Haytham smiles, "Again. Let the Force become a torrent that flows through you."

This time the ball bearing is pulled down several feet and nearly hits the deck, but Haytham pulls it back up and it continues floating around Thrash. This pattern continues for several minutes before Thrash finally knocks it down.

Haytham applauds slowly, chuckling. Thrash pulls off the helmet and drops back onto a nearby bunk, exhausted.

"That was really tricky," Thrash pants, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"You did well, it took me days and days to finally get that level of precision."

Thrash smiles appreciatively, "I like it, this is very interesting. I always thought Jedi were kind of mystical and unreachable, they usually were pilots or working on infiltration teams during the war. You heard about them but didn't ever really _see_ what they could do."

Haytham crosses his ankle over his knee and gathers up the ball bearings with the Force, placing them into a small mesh bag. Sventrare appears in the doorway and looks Thrash over slowly, "I felt your presence in the Force, Specialist Ordo. You're learning quickly."

Closing the bag, Haytham responds, "He applies himself quite diligently. He's a good student."

Thrash works up the courage to ask, "Master Kenway, when will you teach me about lightsabers?"

Sventrare laughs softly, "That's usually a matter for advanced students, after a few years of studying the Force."

Haytham stands and takes his lightsaber off his belt, walking over to Thrash, "Usually. In your case, since you're already combat trained, we can begin with the basics as soon as you like. Here, I'll show you the main components of a lightsaber."

He sits down next to Thrash and shows him his lightsaber. It has a gently curved handle, smooth with a grip fitted to Haytham's hand. He begins disassembling his lightsaber, pointing out the components and their functions. Thrash, already familiar with many of them, quickly picks up the basics. Sventrare looks on, curious.

"Master Kenway, I understand the power supply, but how does the crystal interface with the emitter?"

"That depends entirely on the lightsaber, each Jedi works out their own, usually envisioning the design while channeling the Force. Powerful Jedi will be able to create very unique and powerful lightsabers, but they all share certain similarities. Adjusting the assembly allows one to control blade width, tapering, and intensity."

Thrash studies the components, turning the crystal emitter assembly of Haytham's lightsaber.

"How is your weapon constructed?"

"I built mine to have a thinner blade, which makes it more difficult to deflect blaster fire, but allows for a higher intensity while still retaining relatively easy handling characteristics."

Thrash nods, "What are the particular benefits?"

"Ah, well I'm no physicist, but the plasma of the blade is contained in a magnetic field. When you swing the lightsaber, it creates gyroscopic inertia. The blade has no weight, but the field will pull the handle, making it easy to lose control of the weapon if you're not well trained. A more powerful blade requires a stronger field to contain it, but also becomes more difficult to compensate for the gyroscopic effects."

Sventrare steps over, taking out one of his lightsabers, "Certain crystals are more easily tuned to certain specifications. Mine use a Sapith crystal in tandem with a Ruusan crystal. This produces a very stable, strong blade. Difficult to control, but with practice I've learned to accommodate the inertia of the blades."

Thrash examines Sventrare's lightsaber, which has a straight handle with several knobs below the ridged, black grip. It is somewhat longer than Haytham's, to incorporate the second crystal.

Haytham adds, "Sven is a true prodigy, Kyle Katarn spent hours studying his lightsaber design when he first built that one. I wouldn't be surprised if he was teaching about lightsaber construction back on Ossus within a few years."

Sventrare bows his head humbly, embarrassed, "I was guided by the Force, Haytham. I am sure that a skilled armorer like Specialist Ordo could surpass my own design, given time."

Thrash laughs, "I should probably learn how to use one of these before I start playing around with the parts."

Haytham gathers his lightsaber together and starts reassembling it, speaking aside to Thrash as he does so, "I'll show you the basics of lightsaber combat, much of it will work off the groundwork established by your basic training. I will make an effort to highlight the differences which lightsabers introduce, and how your connection to the Force assists a Jedi while fighting."

…

The cockpit of the Sol Eternal was darkened for the most part, the only illumination coming from the instrument panels in front of Elohirnok. Outside the cockpit, the swirling purple maelstrom of hyperspace twisted past. Elohirnok reached out to his left and clicked over a series of switches when a small green light on the console began blinking.

Lachance walked into the cockpit behind him, and asked, "When are we due to arrive?"

Elohirnok looked over quickly at one of his displays, saying off handedly, "Right about… now."

Beyond the ship's viewport, the purple maelstrom vanished. A whole array of stars and planets leapt into view, with a huge, darkened planet springing up in front of them.

"We'll approach the darkened side of the planet. The facility is on the edge of a cliff, and intelligence indicates heavy turbolaser batteries. I'm going to take us in low about eighty miles away and come in along the treetops. Go alert the marines to gear up."

Lachance nods and walks swiftly through the ship until he reaches the cargo hold. A single marine is posted outside the door and Lachance addresses him, "You there, get your platoon up and ready. We've left hyperspace and are approaching the target."

The marine straightens, "Yes, sir!" And vanishes inside the cargo hold.

Within moments, there is a storm of activity from inside. Weapons rattle, backpacks thump heavily on the deck, and voices mix together and drift into the corridor. Lachance listens for moment before returning to the cockpit.

Elohirnok is guiding the ship down towards Adumar, keeping the power signature low. The shields are down, communications systems and sensors powered off, and he is running the thrusters at minimal impulse.

The Sol Eternal dives silently through the void, engines flaring softly as the ship enters the atmosphere. Elohirnok activates the forward deflector shields at low power to absorb the heat of reentry, and soon the landscape is looming towards them.

The ship flies over broad hills and deep canyons, all carpeted by thick mangrove jungle. Eventually, Elohirnok spots a flat clearing and puts the ship down. He lowers the boarding ramp and kills the engines. The marine leader, a platoon sergeant, approaches Elohirnok, "Sir, what are your orders?"

"Leave two men with the ship, preferably one who can fly. Have the rest of your platoon form up into two teams. I'll lead one to approach along the cliff from the north. You'll lead the other team from the south, move up against the eastern perimeter of the base. We'll assess the strength of the defenses from there, but expect a force of twelve to twenty defenders."

"Aye, sir. I'll get my men together."

The marines move out of the ship in an orderly fashion, followed by the Jedi. Elohirnok briefly checks the ship's engine room before heading outside. On the clearing outside, tall grass covered in dew swirls around the men's legs as the walk. The marines split into two groups of nine, and Lachance joins up with Elohirnok and Sventrare while Haytham and Thrash go with the platoon sergeant's group.

Progress through the jungle is slow, and they move carefully. Strange calls from unidentified creatures echo through the canopies of the twisting trees, and a heavy mist hangs above their heads. Razor sharp vines are laced through the underbrush, along with poisonous blossoms and carnivorous plants along the narrow game trails the teams follow.

They travel all night and make camp when they find a small cave carved by erosion from the side of a shallow ravine. In the midmorning, they arise and continue, following the lay of the land to expedite their journey. On the third day, when Elohirnok estimates that they are within ten miles of the facility, they stay off the game trails and easy paths and cut directly through the harsh jungle. Their progress slows considerably, but by sunset they can see the edge of a long clearing, and the turbolaser towers peeking out on the far side.

They split apart, with Elohirnok leading his group around to the right, circling to approach from the north. The platoon sergeant leads his men south. There are a number of bipedal assault droids guarding the eastern edge of the clearing where the facility is nestled. They are almost twelve feet tall, and armed with heavy repeating blasters.

Inside the clearing, the three towers form a semi-circle spaced a few hundred yards out on the eastern side of the landing pad. Near the landing pad is a low, flat building with sensor arrays on top of it and to the north is a small bunker with a ramp leading down into it. A path from the landing pad to the bunker has been worn flat by the passage of repulsorlift vehicles.

A half dozen human sentries patrol between the turbolasers, and two more assault droids stand near the landing pad, mechanical heads swiveling about. As the shadows cast by the droids lengthen, Elohirnok and his men get into position at the edge of the cliff, near where the thick jungle gives way to tangled grasses. The marines move meticulously through the jungle, spreading out in a firing line and crouching or lying prone. Lachance takes his sniper rifle and works himself into the undergrowth just behind a slight rise in the ground.

The marines with Haytham and Thrash break into two teams at their sergeant's orders. A group of four accompanies the sergeant while the other four prepare to cover them. Haytham taps the sergeant on the back and whispers, "My apprentice and I will move to the landing pad and eliminate any sentries there. Have your team secure the nearest turbolaser battery."

The sergeant nods and relays the information to Elohirnok over a small comlink. Elohirnok responds, "Very well, my men will suppress the northern half of the camp and then leapfrog in to take the northern tower. Keep eyes on that bunker and watch for reinforcements. Once you take your tower, use your other squad to secure the landing pad. We will engage on your mark."

The sergeant exchanges a glance with Haytham, who nods. Thrash braces himself, watching Haytham carefully. Haytham steps out of the jungle and casually throws his lightsaber at the nearest assault droid. The radiant weapon spins lightly through the air and slices through the droid, cutting it in half, before returning to Haytham's outstretched hand.

The tree line behind Haytham explodes in a mess of blaster fire as the marines gun down two other assault droids. Four marines rush out behind the platoon sergeant and make for the southern tower. The remaining four fire towards the eastern end of the clearing, where two assault droids are returning fire with their repeating blasters.

The droids are quickly hit with numerous blaster bolts, limbs glowing hot and melting off as the marines pour fire onto them. The platoon sergeant's squad reaches the southern tower and one marine slings his blaster over his back and begins to climb towards the catwalk that wraps around the tower.

Elohirnok's marines shoot apart several assault droids near them and Lachance kills the two human sentries on the landing pad. Leading four of his marines, Elohirnok sprints to the northern tower. Halfway up the tower, someone opens a hatch and begins to climb out.

Sighting down his pistol, Elohirnok shoots him twice and he falls from the hatch with a cry. His legs tangle on the catwalk and his head hangs limply over the edge. Waving one of the marines up, Elohirnok gestures for him to begin climbing, shouting, "Move, get up there! Cover that bunker!"

Lachance shoots another guard who runs out of the building by the landing pad. The squad of marines still in the jungle moves out towards the landing pad and takes cover near the base of the loading ramp.

In moments, the clearing goes quiet as the last few droids crumple to the ground, sparking and twitching. Haytham and Thrash approach the door to the building near the landing pad, which is swinging back and forth in the slight breeze. A long rectangle of light shines out from inside the building onto the grass outside.

Thrash kicks the door open and moves inside quickly, checking one corner and quickly moving along the wall. Haytham follows him in, lightsaber up. Lachance and Sventrare follow. The interior of the building has a split level floor, with a small set of stairs leading a few feet up to an elevated space with a railing running around the edge. Up on this platform are numerous communication displays and a large table with a holodisplay set into it.

Over to the side is a thick durasteel door near a handful of plasteel crates. Several tables and chairs are set in the center of the room, cups still steaming at a few places.

Lachance moves into a corner and watches the doors while Thrash and Sventrare climb up to investigate the communications equipment. Outside, Elohirnok and the marines secure the perimeter and work to reprogram the targeting systems on the turbolasers.

…

Admiral Nec Bwua'tu stood on the bridge of his new command ship, the a sleek Bothan Assault Cruiser. The ship was very well engineered, and possessed an impressive compliment of turbolasers. It was well suited for ship to ship engagements, with a tight maneuvering characteristics and rapid acceleration. It did lack significant fighter storage, but that trade off allowed for heavier armoring.

All told he had six of these cruisers to form the core of his squadron. A number of _Carrack_-class frigates formed his picket, and a dozen aging but easily modified _Dreadnaught_-class warships had been outfitted to serve as light carriers and point defense platforms.

What he was about to do weighed heavily on his mind, but he shook off his doubts and issued his orders. The Bothan fleet assembled and prepared for the jump to hyperspace.

…

Seba Sebatyne, the reptilian Jedi, found Ben Skywalker in a small restaurant near the Crix Madine Military Reserve. She approached him and feigned surprise, 'Skywalker, this iz a most pleasant surprise. How have you been lately, I never see you in the Jedi Temple."

Ben looks up, and answers guardedly, "I'm fine. I've been quite busy helping hunt down the terrorists here."

Sebatyne nods approvingly, "This iz most good. I hear you do fine work."

"Thank you, Master Sebatyne. I actually need to be getting back to work," he pushes his plate away and gets the waiter's attention, indicating the plate. As the waiter approaches, Ben stands and hands him a credit chip.

Sebatyne's black pupils narrow, becoming dark slits against her blood red eyes.

"Skywalker, the Jedi Council has heard many disturbing things about Corellia. Is it true that your master has been authorized by the Senate to enact emergency military measures?"

Ben looks at her, face darkening, "You know that's true, why ask me, Master Sebatyne?"

The waiter returns with Ben's credit chip, and Sebatyne answers slowly, "I did not want to act without being certain, Skywalker. I came to you because I desired a close source, near to the truth."

Ben relaxes, "Well, I'm glad you asked me instead of someone else. Master Solo and I are working hard with the Alliance Guard to secure Coruscant. Just the other day, we arrested a whole ring of Bothan spies who were working to feed information on the Senate to the terrorists. Over a hundred Bothans are in custody now, it was quite the fiasco."

Sebatyne hisses sharply, "I had not heard… this is most disturbing."

Ben shrugs and prepares to leave, "There are a lot of things going on right now, I only know the half of it. Master Solo is constantly meeting with admirals and senators, total chaos. Alright, I have to go to a meeting myself, actually. Wish me luck."

Ben hurries out of the restaurant and towards the Crix Madine Military Reserve. Master Sebatyne looks for a speeder to take her back to the Jedi Temple as quickly as possible, her mind racing.

…

Kael wakes up in the cockpit of his X-Wing when the proximity alarm begins to go off on the console in front of him. Behind him, the astromech droid beeps and whirs urgently. Kael rubs the sleep out of his eyes and yawns, "Be quite, bolt bucket."

The X-Wing drops out of hyperspace near a large planet. Kael checks his display and reads off the coordinates given him by the astromech. Sighing, he pilots the craft down towards the planet surface.

"Chorba's errand had better be quick…"

…

Back in the ice cave, the tattooed man stands in front of six recruits. There are two Twi'leks, a green skinned male and a red skinned female. Another recruit is a fair skinned Echani female, while the fourth is a male Togruta. The other two recruits are human males.

The Twi'leks have smooth head tails and soft facial features, with slight frames. The Echani is slim but strong, her body conditioned by years of training on her homeworld. She has snow white hair and dark eyes.

The Togruta has an arching, tapered horn on each side of his head, analogous to ears. They extend down onto his shoulders, and are slightly flexible. An alternating pattern of red and blue stripes his horns in a spiral. His skin is light brown, tinted slightly red.

The humans are both tall, although one is heavily built with short red hair and the other is more slender with longer black hair.

Each recruit wears thick black woolen robes, tied shut at the wrists and ankles. They are form fitting to a degree, but loose enough not to be restrictive. The six recruits kneel in front of the tattooed man in a line, at the side of the ice cave.

He speaks to them in a low, clear voice, "You have achieved much. Through your dedication and sacrifice, you have risen to the highest tier of our order. Few can match you in skill and ability, and even fewer have the willpower to endure what you have. Take pride in your accomplishments so far, many have fallen where you have succeeded. But do not grow arrogant. The next phase of your training with likely kill half of you, if not more. It is brutal, but necessary. If you would walk the path you have chosen to its end, you must endure things which would break any other; you must become instruments of the Force, living not for your own desires, but for the will of the Force. Within it, you will find the strength to overcome what lies ahead."

The tattooed man takes out a small blue holocron, shaped like a pyramid and inlaid with complex patterns, and places it on the ground in ice in front of the recruits.

"This holocron will guide you until I return. Follow its every directive and you will survive. Disobey, and this planet will kill you."

He turns and walks out of the cave, pulling up his hood as he steps out into the swirling blizzard beyond.

…


	7. Chapter 13

Four men, armored and helmeted, crouched near a heavy door. They were in a small chamber, lit by a single lighting panel on the ceiling. The lead man placed small explosive charges on the hinges of the door and stepped back, using a high frequency radar filter on his visor to look through the door.

He held the detonator in his hand and watches as someone walks towards the door, holding a lightsaber. The lead man held up his left hand, palm open.

The other members of his team looked at him, waiting for his signal. Two held blaster carbines with shortened barrels, the third toted a heavy repeating blaster. Their masks were painted with various symbols, each representing the exploits of their clan. There was palpable tension in the air as they waited for his command.

The Jedi outside was almost at the door. The leader clenched his left hand into a fist and triggered the explosives, blowing the door outwards off its hinges. The thick durasteel door slammed into Haytham Kenway, knocking his lightsaber out of his hand and pinning him down.

The four man team surged out of the doorway, splitting to the right and left. Lachance crouched and raised his sniper rifle, firing at the first man through the door. His high powered blast tore through the man's helmet and he fell flat, helmet scorched and smoking, blood gushing onto the floor.

The third man through the door, the team leader, moved to the right and fired on Lachance with his carbine. His first shot hit the coal grey Echani armor that Lachance wore, splashing just below his neck and staggering Lachance. The leader's second shot struck Lachance in the side of the head as he fell back, and Lachance dropped his rifle and fell backwards.

Thrash, standing next to Sventrare on the elevated platform, turned quickly and began firing at the squad coming through the door. His blaster bolts scorched the armor of the team leader and scored holes in the wall behind him.

Sventrare ignited his lightsabers and leapt over the railing, deflecting several shots directed at him. He landed next to the two troopers who had gone left, slicing through the repeating blaster held by the last man through the door.

The team leader returned fire on Thrash, forcing him behind one of the communications consoles and pinning him down. The other trooper on the left, still holding his blaster carbine, moved to the far side of the room to flank Thrash and Sventrare.

Sventrare reached out with the Force, knocking him off his feet, before delivering a spinning kick to the trooper whose weapon he had just severed. The trooper jumps back to avoid the kick and reaches to draw his sidearm. Sventrare steps forward with the momentum of his kick and slices through the trooper's leg with one lightsaber while cutting off his weapon hand with the other.

The team leader keeps moving to the right, towards the door to the outside, firing at Thrash to pin him behind the console. He steps over Lachance's prone form and reaches the door just as Elohirnok and two marines come sprinting over from the landing pad. The team leader reaches onto his belt and takes out a grenade, but Elohirnok skids to a halt and fires from the hip with his disruptor pistol.

The white bolt of energy catches the team leader just below the helmet, where his body suit is exposed at the neck. With a sharp crackle, the bolt eats through the black body suit and explodes out the other side of the man's neck. He drops the grenade and his blaster carbine, stumbling back against the wall and grasping his throat with both hands.

Elohirnok raises his pistol and grips it with his other hand, firing twice more into the team leader's chest. The bolts carve through his armor and leave jagged gaps in the chest plates. The team leader sinks down against the wall, sliding to the floor.

The marines run past Elohirnok and into the room. Sventrare is just finishing with the trooper who had drawn his sidearm while on the far side of the room the trooper thrown with the Force is getting to his feet. The marines both fire at him, cutting him down.

Thrash steps out from behind the console, looking around at the carnage. He runs down the stairs to Lachance and Haytham, shouting, "Man down, man down!"

He points to the two marines, "Get me a surgical kit, now!"

Sventrare lifts the door off Haytham, who gets up onto his feet, bruised but alive. Thrash kneels next to Lachance and pulls off his backpack, opening it up and pulling out his medical supplies. He checks Lachance's pulse, and finds it faint but still beating.

Elohirnok stands next to the door, watching. Sventrare hauls the surviving trooper to his feet and shoves him into a chair, "Sit down and stay put."

Watching the trooper, Sventrare stands to the side and glances at Thrash, who is busily spraying medical foam over the wound on the side of Lachance's head. The two marines return with a box emblazoned in red, and set it down next to Thrash.

Thrash attaches several sensors to Lachance's scalp and opens up the box beside him, working quickly. He barks short commands to the two marines, who hand him various implements and supplies. Elohirnok takes out a comlink and contacts the marines still at the ship, "Strike team to base, come in."

"Base, we read you."

"Objective is secured, anti-air defenses are programmed not to fire on friendlies. Bring the ship over immediately, the landing pad is clear."

"Roger, we're on our way."

Elohirnok leans down next to Thrash, "If he's stabilized, and going to make it, we can move him onto the ship's medical bay when it gets here."

Thrash answers, not looking away from his work, "Got it. That should help."

Sventrare and Haytham confront the captured trooper, Sventrare standing behind him and Haytham in front. The older Jedi glares at the trooper, "Take off your helmet, now."

The trooper holds up his right hand, now a neat stump, "I'm going to need some help, unless your surgeon over there thinks he can stick this back on."

Haytham asks sharply, "Would you rather be dead? Sven, help him with the helmet."

Sventrare obliges, helping the trooper pull off his helmet. He is revealed to be a young man, perhaps twenty-five, with long brown hair that falls almost to his shoulders. It is matted and damp from being underneath the helmet. He grins bleakly, "So what now, Jedi? I'm not going to tell you anything, before you ask."

Haytham chuckles, "Oh, I won't be the one to ask. We'll turn you over to people far more skilled at interrogation than ourselves, and far less discrete in their methods."

"Do it. You won't frighten me into cooperation."

The trooper leans back in the chair and stares at Haytham, almost bored. Haytham shrugs and turns away to watch as Thrash works desperately to stabilize Lachance, who has lapsed into unconsciousness.

The Sol Eternal hovers over the horizon, swooping in to touch down on the landing pad. Several marines help move Lachance onto a stretcher and carry him up the loading ramp onto the ship. Elohirnok accompanies them while the Jedi remain with the prisoner.

…

Kael flies down through thick white clouds and breaks out into the night sky below them. He flies towards the clearing indicated by his coordinates, approaching across a wide canyon. As he descends, alarms begin ringing and the astromech starts giving off an incoherent stream of noises.

"What is it now? Oh…"

Kael's eyes widen when he sees the streaks of incoming laser fire, and twists the controls over, pulling his fighter into a sideways roll. He avoids the first burst but is struck by a second one, fired by another gun. His shields fail immediately and the panels in front of him light up, flashing red and yellow warnings.

"I know that was bad! Shut up!"

The astromech continues its tirade as Kael twists the X-Wing around two more bursts, but one blindsides him and he rolls directly into it. Green streaks of light tear into the back of his cockpit, crippling the engines and setting the fighter's fuel tanks on fire.

"Damn. Double damn. Bolt bucket, this would be a good time for some damage control!"

The droid does not respond as Kael struggles to keep control of his fighter, the side of the canyon rushing up as the craft plummets from the sky. Ahead of him, he can see several turbolaser towers in a long, narrow clearing. He jimmies the controls, closing his eyes and envisioning the path he wants the fighter to take.

Miraculously, it pulls out of its dive and crashes into the clearing right near the edge of the cliff, sliding for almost a hundred yards. As the fighter grinds across the ground, it narrowly avoids flipping end over end, the wings tearing off and pieces of the engines exploding into flames as they scatter across the ground, leaving a wide debris trail behind.

As soon as the fighter slows and shudders to a halt, digging its nose into the ground, Kael blasts the canopy apart with a wave of Force and rolls out of the cockpit, dropping to the ground beside the frame of the fighter.

He isn't sure why the turrets fired on him, but he is not about to take any chances.

"Damn you, Chorba, this is supposed to be your base. What the hell have you gotten me into?"

He sees several men armed with blaster rifles and wearing jungle fatigues come running towards his fighter. Kael stands up slowly, raising his hands into the air. The marines slow down and train their rifles on him, one of them shouting, "You there, on your knees! Hands behind your head!"

Kael slowly kneels down, scowling, and places his hands behind his head. The marines rush over and force his wrists into binders before hauling him roughly to his feet and leading him over to a building next to the landing pad. A Corellian freighter sits on the landing pad, and Kael sees several more men hurrying up the loading ramp with a stretcher.

A grey haired man dressed in a blue toned tunic and short cloak walks out of the building and approaches them. Kael spots a lightsaber hanging from his belt.

"A Jedi Knight! Boy, am I glad to see you," Kael exclaims.

The marines at his sides give him a confused look, then address Haytham, "Master Kenway, we found this man at the crash site. Turbolasers downed his X-Wing."

Haytham clasps his hands behind his back and asks formally, "How is it that you came to this part of the planet, mister…?"

"Kael, Kael Orven. Seems like my astromech had a malfunction of some kind and calculated a bad hyperspace jump. I was glad to be alive, but then I thought things were taking a turn for the worse when I was shot down. Seemed like I had stumbled on a pirate outpost, but to my surprise, this is an Alliance outpost."

Haytham smiles cautiously, "How fortunate, indeed. Where were you headed, Kael?"

Seeing no reason to conceal too much, Kael answered blithely, "Nar Shaddaa, Master Jedi. I was on my way home when my droid went bonkers."

Elohirnok strides down the ramp from the landing pad, "What have we here, Haytham?"

"A lost traveler, it appears. I see no reason to detain him for the time being."

Elohirnok looks Kael over, "Do you require medical attention? Your ship looks like it won't be going anywhere again, you must be quite a pilot to pull off that landing."

Kael laughs, "I'm just one lucky son of a Hutt, that's all. If you've got a medic around, I could use a little attention, I feel like I just lost a fight with a Wookiee."

Elohirnok grins despite himself, "Alright. Release him and show him onto the ship, but keep an eye on him. See that he gets his injuries treated."

The marines escort Kael onto the ship and Elohirnok goes to investigate the ramp leading down into the bunker. At the bottom of the ramp is a set of immense doors, magnetically sealed and locked. Elohirnok posts a team of four marines to watch the door and returns to the communications center in the building.

Sventrare is in the command center, watching the captured trooper. Elohirnok climbs the stairs to the platform with the communications consoles. He examines the various displays and calls aloud to the prisoner, "Who's in charge of this facility?"

The trooper refuses to respond and Elohirnok continues pacing the platform, adjusting dials and configuring different settings. He soon gets a feel for how the system is configured and plugs a datapad into one of the ports on the display set into the table.

"You sure you don't want to tell me who runs the show around here? I'm a pretty reasonable guy, I get that you're just here to keep the lowlifes out."

The trooper laughs, "You'll never get into the factory, you have to realize that."

Elohirnok manipulates the datapad, attempting to access the communications system, "And they'll never get out, so I think that makes us even, doesn't it?"

The trooper returns to his silence and after a moment Elohirnok gains control of the communications arrays. He beams contentedly and addresses the prisoner again, "There's not much of a market for mercenaries with one hand and one leg. I doubt your employers are going to pay for cybernetics."

The trooper looks forlornly at his arm that ends abruptly, opening his mouth to speak, but closing it again. His face is a mask of resolve, jaw set.

"Suit yourself, friend. I'm going to call your boss and see what he thinks."

Elohirnok raises the lower levels of the base on the communications system, waiting for a reply. After a few moments, a shimmering blue image of a tall humanoid with stark white hair and a labcoat appears.

Haughtily, the figure addresses Elohirnok, "Sniveling cur, who is this?"

Raising an eyebrow and slowly giving a half smile, Elohirnok answers, "How about I ask the questions, seeing as I'm the one with all the guns."

The figure tilts his head back, looking down his nose at Elohirnok, "I am Doctor Jareel, and I advise you to turn tail and run like the insignificant peon that you are before my client's fleet arrives to claim their investment."

Elohirnok laughs, "Where did you learn your banter from? Cheap holo films? I'll give you thirty minutes to open the doors to your facility and surrender. No harm will come to you and your people, assuming you don't try anything sneaky."

Terminating the connection with a jab at the console, Elohirnok walks down to the table where the trooper is seated. He picks up one of the mugs from the table, peers into it, and takes a swig.

"Mmm. Still warm, and not poorly brewed either. Care for some?"

The trooper maintains his stoic front and Elohirnok drains the mug and drops it back onto the table. He kicks his feet up onto the table and folds his hands behind his head. He makes a meaningful glance towards the bodies of the two men lying near the door.

"Those fellows had it easy, nice and quick. You, on the other hand, have a rather bleak future. Crippled, prisoner of the Alliance… I'm afraid my superiors are rather careless with record keeping. I visited a detention center once where one of the prisoners had been completely forgotten for almost six years. Apparently his records were accidentally deleted and no one remembered he existed after his allies were eliminated."

Glaring at him, the trooper still refuses to speak. Elohirnok smiles at him, "Alright, kid. I admire your pluck. You've done very well, if you were one of my men, I'd be proud of you."

He claps the trooper on the shoulder and stands to leave. Looking over at Sventrare he gets a curious expression on his face, "Say, Sven, could I borrow your lightsaber for a minute? I want to see if something will work."

Sventrare takes out one of his lightsabers and hesitates, "Lieutenant, what exactly do you want to do?"

Elohirnok shakes his head, "Never mind, you wouldn't like it very much," he looks at the trooper, "Lucky for you, mate."

As Elohirnok leaves he calls to Sventrare, "Let me know if Doctor arrogant calls back and wants to surrender. I'm going to see if the marines packed enough explosives to just collapse the whole base."

…

Haytham finds Elohirnok in the lounge of the Sol Eternal, looking over a datapad. He walks over and sits down across from him.

"Elohirnok, one of the marines tells me that they've just detected several ships entering the system. They don't match any known signatures."

Elohirnok looks up instantly, concerned, "How many?"

"Seven, with fighter escorts. The tech said nineteen contacts total."

Elohirnok springs to his feet and hurries out of the lounge, Haytham trailing after him. He finds the platoon sergeant and instructs him, "Gather your outlying patrols, get the prisoner on the ship and secure him."

"Aye, sir. Shall I leave men watching the bunker?"

"Yes, but have them ready to fall back immediately."

Elohirnok stops by the cockpit and starts the ship's engines up before returning to the communications center and attempting to call Doctor Jareel again. The system returns a false connection, and Elohirnok curses.

Haytham stands at the foot of the stairs to the platform, "Are you going to retreat?"

"I have twenty men and one ship! I had hoped that snooty doctor was bluffing about the fleet, but it looks like he's got friends. If they set course for this facility, we'll have to run to get clear of the planet's gravity well in time to jump."

Haytham nods, "A prudent precaution. Won't Raven be a little irate, though? He seemed to think this mission was vital."

Elohirnok settles back onto his heels, hooking his thumb through his belt at his side. He speaks after a brief pause, "I realize that he won't be pleased, but there's not much I can do. We know where this facility is, so we can always come back."

A marine runs up and tells Elohirnok, "Sir, sensors report the fleet is bearing for the planet. They'll be here in less than thirty minutes."

Cursing again, Elohirnok gives the order, "Pull back onto the ship, place charges on the landing pad and turbolaser batteries to disable them. We're dusting off in fifteen minutes and making a break for it."

…

On the ship, Elohirnok calls Colonel Raven, standing stiffly at attention when the connection is made. Colonel Raven is seated behind his desk, sifting through reports. He looks up and says, "Be quick about it, Lieutenant. What do you have to report?"

"Sir, there is an enemy squadron closing on the planet. We have secured the facility, but are unable to access the lower levels, where production presumably takes place. I am withdrawing my forces and returning to Coruscant."

"Oh, you are, are you? Get down into the lower levels and take shelter there. I'll send you reinforcements when I can, but you need to disable the factory. That is your highest priority."

Elohirnok does his best to keep from frowning, "Sir, we cannot access the lower levels without time to disable the security measures. Even then, they are held by the enemy and we would be caught between the fleet and the forces still inside the facility. Respectfully, sir, we can always come back later. This factory isn't going anywhere."

Colonel Raven slams his datapad down, "Look here, there's a situation developing which could very well tear this Alliance apart! I need that factory out of action, immediately."

"Sir, I apologize, but there is nothing we can do at this time to accomplish the objective. I am withdrawing my forces."

Colonel Raven stares angrily at Elohirnok for a moment before relenting, "Fine, but don't think you'll get away with this nonsense. Once there's time, you'll hear about this mess."

"Thank you, sir." Elohirnok terminates the connection and returns to the cockpit, preparing for takeoff.

…

Seba Sebatyne walks down a corridor in the Jedi Temple with Luke Skywalker, speaking in an urgent tone that causes her to half hiss each word.

"Master Skywalker, you son has arrested Bothan spies. I expect that this will come before the Senate and cause an uproar. We need to reign in Solo!"

Luke looks grim, "This is bad news, but not the worst I've gotten today. Corellia is under blockade and both Fondor and Commenor have withdrawn their delegates from the Senate in protest. Mara tells me that one of her sources reports that the First Fleet has dropped out of contact with Alliance Command at Crix Madine. Add to that the reports that Force users were involved in the attack on Crix Madine…"

Sebatyne hisses angrily, "We must find out who is responsible for the attack. Already there are whispers that it was rogue Jedi! The military will use this to malign us."

"I understand, Seba. Patience, we need to address these problems one at a time. See if Ben can get you to meet with Jacen, Master Solo keeps putting me off. He's never where I expect him to be, I suspect he' s masking his presence in the Force so I can't track him down for a meeting."

Sebatyne nods and bows, "I will do this, Master Skywalker."

She turns and leaves, while Luke continues down the hallway. Nearby, a turbolift opens and Masters Zhayne and Horn emerge, both looking intensely focused. They spot Luke and hurry over to him, Zhayne exclaiming, "There he is, Master Skywalker!"

Luke turns, exasperated, "Gentlemen, what news do you have?"

Zhayne says, "The Senate called an emergency session in response to a declaration from Corellia. They intend to secede, along with Fondor and Commenor. The Alliance advisory council has advised the Chief of State to call for reservists and mobilize ground forces. Admiral Niathal is speaking before the Senate now."

Luke frowns, "We'll have to go there at once and see what happens. Send word to Ossus that all available Jedi should convene there for a meeting as soon as possible."

…

The Sol Eternal arrived in orbit above Coruscant to find the planet in chaos. Civilian traffic was heavily restricted in the wake of large military movements. Transports moved to and from the surface, mingling with numerous warships amassing in orbit above the planet.

Elohirnok guided his ship down to the surface, but was unable to land at the Crix Madine Military Reserve. Instead, he was redirected to a landing pad on the other side of the Senate District, a civilian site which had been temporarily possessed for military traffic.

Sending the marines to take the prisoner to be processed, Elohirnok went to the Military Reserve compound to try and find Colonel Raven.

Haytham browsed the news in the crew lounge and suddenly pushed his seat back, shouting out, "What's this? They've placed General Antilles under house arrest? And stripped him of rank?"

Thrash steps over, furious, "That's crazy. Why?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

Haytham buckles on his short cloak and storms off the ship, Thrash a few steps behind him. Haytham leaves the landing pad and finds a speeder to take him to Wedge's apartment. The trip over is short and uneventful, but when the speeder docks at the small private landing pad outside the apartment, Haytham springs out and hurries to knock on the door.

Wedge answers the door, looking well groomed but otherwise miserable.

"Master Kenway? What a surprise, what can I do for you?"

"I heard about what they did to you, can I step inside?"

"Certainly, but I don't know what I can tell you that you haven't heard. Admiral Niathal has it in for me, it seems. Now this business with the First Fleet vanishing and Corellia seceding? It's getting out of hand."

Wedge leads them into his apartment and walks over to the kitchen.

"Can I get either of you gentlemen a drink? I don't believe I caught your name."

He looks at Thrash, who stammers for a second before answering, "Specialist Ordo, sir. It's a great honor to meet you."

Wedge smiles, "Well, not many people seem to think that these days, but thank you."

He holds up a glass and directs a questioning look at Haytham, who smiles and shakes his head, "No thank you, Wedge. Why don't you tell me about Admiral Niathal?"

Wedge begins explaining how he was removed from command and finally stripped of his rank by Jacen Solo. As he is in the middle of doing so, the turbolift at the end of his apartment opens to reveal a squad of Galactic Alliance Guardsmen, fully armored.

Wedge, Haytham, and Thrash all stand up, surprised. The Guardsmen step out of the turbolift and their leader looks at Wedge, holding out a small datapad in one hand, blaster pistol in the other.

"Wedge Antilles, you're to come with us immediately. You're wanted for questioning."

Haytham steps forward, hand on his lightsaber, "Hold right there, soldier. General Antilles is going nowhere."

The Guardsman glances at the men behind him and jerks his head. They start to fan out to the sides of the turbolift with their blaster rifles held ready. Haytham clips his lightsaber off his belt and raises his voice.

"I said hold there, soldier. Master Solo doesn't have the authority to arrest General Antilles, nor does he need a squad of his goons to bring him in for questioning."

The leader of the Guardsmen hesitates, his men looking to him for an order. He looks back at Haytham, "Master Jedi, this doesn't concern you. Stand aside."

Wedge glares at the Guardsman, "It concerns all of us, officer. If Master Solo wanted to speak to me, he should have just asked."

The Guardsman raises his hand, "Master Jedi, stand aside. Antilles, surrender to us or I'll order my men to fire!"

Wedge moves his hand to his side and the Guardsman shouts. Thrash tackles Wedge to the ground as the Guardsmen fire their rifles. Haytham ignites his lightsaber and deflects a bolt back at one of the Guards, killing him.

The leader raises his pistol to fire at Haytham, but he steps forward quickly and cuts off his hand with his lightsaber. Haytham then spins and impales him through the chest with a backhanded thrust, pulls out his lightsaber and beheads the Guard next to him.

The other men start firing at Haytham, who deflects two blasts. One scorches the ceiling and the other strikes a Guardsman in the chest. Thrash pops up from the floor with a pistol and shoots another Guard while Haytham stabs the last through the throat.

Wedge curses, "That went poorly."

Haytham stoops and picks up the datapad the first Guardsman had been holding. He reads over it, then hands it to Wedge, "Have a look at this."

The datapad reads:

_Officer Bartell,_

_Apprehend former General Antilles from his apartment and bring him in for questioning. He is highly likely to resist arrest violently, given his background and training. Bring a squad and don't hesitate to shoot at the slightest resistance, as he is extremely dangerous._

_Respectfully,_

_Commander Jacen Solo, G.A.G._

Wedge reads it and his face darkens, "Damn. Never though Han's boy would try to assassinate me."

Haytham clips his lightsaber back onto his belt, "Come with me. I'll get you off world, drop you off wherever you like. They'll probably take you in on Corellia."

"Well, seeing as you already killed Jacen's men, I guess you're in this as much as I am. Do you have a ship?"

"In a manner of speaking. I'll work it out. I'm tired of this nonsense."

Wedge looks skeptical, "Are you sure about that? I don't want to drag the Jedi Order into this."

Haytham walks towards the landing pad, "I stand by my actions. This has no bearing on the Order as a whole."

"If you say so. Let me get some things. I don't think I'll be coming back to Coruscant for a while. At least I hope not."  
…


	8. Chapter 14

Kael had been released from the Sol Eternal when they landed on Coruscant. He found a cantina in the lower levels of the Senate district that was fairly inexpensive without being seedy.

Taking a seat in a sheltered corner, Kael ordered fresh klor'slug soup and took out his holocommunicator. He set the device on the table next to his soup and put in a call to Chorba. There was no answer the first time he tried, so Kael finished his meal and ordered a drink before trying again.

This time he was answered by a young female Twi'lek, "Hello, Kael. Chorba is in a meeting with some clients at the moment, can I pass along a message?"

"Yes, tell that lousy slimeball that I just visited his factory and the whole situation is out of control. I got shot down and now I'm on Coruscant. If he doesn't call me in an hour, I'm coming straight to Nal Hutta and smashing his palace to pieces.

The Twi'lek looked blankly at him for a moment before saying nervously, "Yes, Kael. I'll tell him to contact you as soon as he can."

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

…

Some time later the holocommunicator began to blink with an incoming message. Kael pressed down a small key and Chorba appeared a few inches above the table, a translucent blue image.

"Kael, what seems to be the trouble?"

"You could start by warning me that I'm flying into a warzone next time, Chorba!"

"Oh? A warzone?"

Kael looks exasperated, "Yes! There was an Alliance military team with two Jedi down on the planet. They were trying to storm the factory until some ships appeared in system and they fled… taking me with them after they shot me down."

"Were you a prisoner?"

"In a manner of speaking. I convinced them I was simply a lost traveler who ran afoul of the turbolaser batteries, they may or may not have believed me, but they let me go once we reached Coruscant."

Chorba considers this for a long moment, picking up a small squirming creature from a bowl and chewing thoughtfully.

"They didn't access the factory itself?"

"No, but they know where it is. I'm sure they'll be back with more troops."

"That won't be a problem. This opportunity can work to our advantage… could you arrange to follow those two Jedi? They are incredibly gullible when it comes to assisting desperate travelers."

"You mean offer to work with them?"

"Do whatever it takes, Kael. In return, I have arranged to hire a team of Duros engineers who should be far more useful than those construction droids. I think you will find their work very pleasing."

"They've already been hired?"

"Yes. They should arrive on Nar Shaddaa in a matter of days."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

…

Elohirnok searched the Crix Madine compound for Colonel Raven, but after several hours of fruitless labor eventually learned that Colonel Raven had returned to the _Advent Dawn_, the mobile command center for intelligence.

Returning to the _Sol Eternal_, Elohirnok found Kael waiting on the landing pad. He was standing nonchalantly against the ship's loading ramp.

Elohirnok approached cautiously, saying, "I thought you were taking a ship for Nar Shaddaa."

"I was, but there seems to be a little bit of a crisis going on. I couldn't find a single civilian transport that would head that way at any reasonable cost."

"I'm very sorry. This will pass, it's just a temporary thing."

Kael straightens up and steps towards Elohirnok, "I have to get back to Nar Shaddaa, there's a settlement depending on my help."

Elohirnok considers him carefully, "What is it you do again?"

"I coordinate charitable contributions to the reconstruction effort, and help out with organizational tasks. I sort of make everything work behind the scenes for my settlement."

"Interesting. Are you back because you'd like us to take you to Nar Shaddaa?"

Kael laughs, "Essentially, yes."

"That's a bit out of our way, but perhaps you could find a transport from Denon?"

"I'd appreciate anything, really. I just can't afford to be trapped here any longer, things are fragile enough for my colony."

"Very well, we did shoot you down in the first place. Wait in the crew lounge and I'll see what can be done."

Kael walks up the boarding ramp as an airspeeder lands behind Elohirnok. Haytham and Thrash climb out of the vehicle, followed by a clean cut gentleman with weathered features. Elohirnok immediately recognizes him as Wedge Antilles and snaps to attention.

"General, good afternoon."

Wedge waves him down, "I'm afraid I'm actually more of a fugitive at this point, Lieutenant. Your Jedi friend here tells me your ship can get me off world."

"Oh, fantastic. Now we're an interplanetary courier service."

Haytham walks up, "What do you mean?"

Elohirnok shakes his head, "Never mind. Why is General Antilles a fugitive?"

Thrash says, "We killed a whole bunch of GAG troopers who tried to arrest him. Probably going to bite us in the *ss later."

Elohirnok groans, "I'll say. What were you thinking?"

"Hey, they were under orders not to take the general alive. Blame Jacen Solo and his goons."

Elohirnok looks at Wedge, "Sir, why were they trying to arrest you?"

"I think they were just cleaning house. Anyone who could potentially have conflicted loyalties is being removed or detained by the GAG. Master Solo is quite thorough, and Admiral Niathal is exercising tight control over the military."

"And what do you plan to do now, sir?"

Wedge shrugs slightly, "I don't like it, but ironically Corellia seems to be the only place that will take me in now. I can at least shelter there until cooler heads prevail in the Alliance."

Elohirnok resigns himself to the situation, "Very well, sir. If you don't mind a rough landing I can launch an escape pod from mid orbit, and send you down with a comlink and enough supplies to get you to a city."

"I've certainly had closer scrapes than that, Lieutenant. Thank you."

"I would say it was no problem, but I have a feeling it will be…"

…

Jacen Solo walked into lobby outside the office of the Chief of State, Cal Omas. It was a well decorated office, but not ostentatious. The wall murals were classic images, conveying a sense of grandeur and power. Jacen admired them as he waited.

A pair of senators walked out of Cal Omas' office, looking pleased with themselves. Jacen stood, greeting them. A secretary appeared at the door and waved Jacen in, "Colonel Solo? Please come in."

Jacen enters the interior office, where Cal Omas is seated at his desk. He looks up from a datapad, "Good afternoon, Master Solo. You said you needed to meet with me?"

"Yes, sir. Can I trust that our conversation here will be private?"

"Of course."

Jacen stands in front of Cal Omas' desk, his expression severe, "There is mounting evidence that the Corellians not only have been gathering allies underneath our very noses, but that sympathy for their cause runs deep in our own government."

Omas nods, "Yes, this has been mentioned in several reports. Your own regiment, those Guards, have uncovered numerous cells even here on Coruscant."

"That leads me directly to what I wanted to speak with you about, sir. As the depth of this movement grows and Fondor and Commenor are almost certainly going to declare for Corellia, since the presence of the Fourth Fleet has done nothing to deter their reckless disregard for the Alliance's laws, the Guards have proved instrumental in reigning in rebellion."

Smiling, Omas replies, "Yes, indeed. It's quite remarkable what you and Admiral Niathal have been able to accomplish with that small unit."

"Actually, sir, I'd like for it to be less of a 'small unit' and part of broader effort to reduce corruption and prevent insurrections from getting out of hand. With enough men, I could expand my efforts from simply hunting terrorists to actively pursuing the subversives who are trying to undermine the Alliance from within."

"What do you mean, Master Solo?"

"The reconstruction programs, the bone that Corellia has chosen to pick with us, are good in principle, but very flawed in their execution. After ten years, there is still very little to show for the project. I believe that this isn't due to the hopelessness of the situation. Active sabotage is the culprit. I want to root out and uncover the corrupt officials who have been undermining the program, and either deliberately or accidentally lending credence to Corellia's objections."

"That is a bold objective, how would you go about accomplishing that?"

Jacen smiles, "I think you'll like what I have in mind, sir. I want to start with a two sided maneuver. Nar Shaddaa is an important trade hub, but criminal elements have been securing their hold on the planet and our outpost there is little more than a landing pad. With enough troops to provide security and ensure the proper use of reconstruction funds, we could turn the world into a model for the rest of the program. I don't think I need to mention how much that would boost your popularity, sir. Especially in the Outer Rim."

"I wouldn't mind that at all, anything to help secure the Alliance. But what would the cost be?" Cal Omas inquired carefully.

Jacen elaborates, "I've had some very talented people look over the numbers and accounts, and I believe that the extra costs could easily be covered if we recovered funds which were skimmed by dishonest officials. Down the road, the increased trade revenues from tariffs would more than outweigh the costs of maintaining our presence in the sector. As it is, smugglers already move most of the trade into the Outer Rim through that sector, but they pay off the Hutts and Exchange instead of the Alliance."

Cal is smiling now, "This has the sound of a very ambitious project, and given your track record, Master Solo, I'm inclined to support you. But first, what is the other part of your plan? You mentioned a two sided maneuver."

"Ah, yes. Part of what makes this operation possible is a close cooperation with Intelligence. There should be legislation coming before the Senate which significantly increases the powers and legal authority of the Galactic Alliance Guard, and ties us closely to Alliance Intelligence. Your support for that legislation would make projects like the restoration of Nar Shaddaa possible."

Cal makes a few notes on his datapad, "I will keep that in mind. Please keep up your efforts, Master Solo."

Cal stands and shakes Jacen's hand, who leaves the Chief of State's office feeling confident. He finds his way out of the Senate building and meets Ben Skywalker near an airspeeder waiting on a small landing pad. Ben opens the door to the airspeeder as Jacen approaches, and they climb in.

Jacen takes out a small datapad and browses through several files before addressing Ben, "Is Seba Sebatyne still following you?"

Ben conceals his surprise and tries to answer evenly, "I don't think so. I've only spoken to her once since returning to Coruscant."

"Apparently she's been making some effort to keep tabs on you. One of our men discovered her planting listening devices on your personal comlink earlier today."

Ben is shocked, "What? Why would she be spying on me?"

Jacen glances at him, his face implying doubt, "I'm sure you can work that out, Ben. When was the last time you met with your father?"

"A few weeks ago, I've been so busy with everything we've been doing…"

"Well there's your answer. It's obvious that he doesn't trust you, perhaps you should talk to him today. Confront him about Seba, but keep it civil. I'm sure he's just concerned for you."

"I can take care of myself! He needs to stop treating me like a child, I'm a Jedi Knight and a lieutenant in the Guard." Ben seethes.

Jacen finishes with his datapad and puts it away.

"You've proven yourself extremely capable in that regard, Ben. There's a situation developing on Corellia which I would like you to help resolve. Colonel Raven has requested more Jedi Knights to help with his operations. Go to the GAG hangar at Crix Madine and get a small transport to take you and a company of Guards to meet up with the _Advent_ _Dawn_. Raven will transmit you the coordinates when you're ready."

Ben nods and says proudly, "Of course. I'll head there right away."

"No need to rush off immediately. The troopers won't be ready for a short while, if you wanted to take care of any personal business here on Coruscant first."

Ben pauses and thinks for a moment, "I suppose I could let my dad know I was leaving, he should appreciate what I'm doing."

…

Elohirnok sat in the cockpit of the _Sol Eternal_, browsing through personnel files and reports, looking for information on Kael. The man was unmentioned in any reports he could find, which he supposed was a good thing. No criminal record to speak of, although it seemed as though there weren't quite enough mentions of Kael in any records.

Perhaps it was just paranoia working its way into him, since many records had been lost in the chaos of the war, but Elohirnok felt that there was something about Kael he needed to figure out. He left a request with the research division of Intelligence for more information about his passenger.

His personal comlink began to beep frantically and he answered it swiftly.

"Lieutenant Halal here."

"Lieutenant, this is Colonel Raven. Is your ship prepared to go?"

"It can be. What's the situation?"

"Get to Corellia immediately, we're scrambling all ready teams."

"Yes, sir."

Colonel Raven ended the call. Elohirnok stood up and walked briskly back through the ship, gathering the crew and telling them to prepare for takeoff. He found the Jedi and alerted them, along with Thrash.

He finds Wedge Antilles talking with Kael in the crew lounge and pokes his head in.

"Conveniently, we're headed to Corellia. Kael, if you would prefer to stay on Coruscant and try your luck with a transport…"

"Corellia? Hmm. I would rather get off Coruscant for certain, I wouldn't mind a small detour."

"Well, that's your prerogative. I can't guarantee you'll survive, things are a little exciting over there right now."

"I'm sure it's no more dangerous than being shot down by turbolasers."

"Valid point. Just stay out of the way and keep your head down."

…

En route to Corellia, the Sol Eternal streaked through the chaotic maelstrom of hyperspace. Her engines thrummed, echoing through the cold durasteel passages of the ship. Lachance walked silently along one passage, making his way into the crew quarters.

Wedge Antilles was seated there, reminiscing with Elohirnok about their days as X-Wing pilots. Kael watched, wry amusement evidence on his face as he listened to them describe maneuvers that he was fairly certain ought to make the laws of physics sit down and cry.

Lachance leaned against the bulkhead beside the door, surveying the room. His eyes landed on Kael, and he concentrated on his face. There was a vague familiarity to it, and Lachance wondered if he had met a close relative of Kael's in the past. He had an exceptional memory for faces, but there were some times in his life which he had only a foggy recollection of. Perhaps Raven would know more.

In the cargo hold, Thrash and Haytham sparred with thin plasteel rods. Haytham walked Thrash through the footwork for the basic lightsaber form, known as Shii-Cho. It formed the groundwork for more elaborate movements, and Thrash was already familiar with many of the principles.

They stepped quickly back and forth, their strikes fluid. Haytham would probe Thrash's defenses, testing his reactions as he advanced, then switch to the defensive when he had pushed Thrash to one side of the cargo hold. Thrash would attack, striking low and high, flowing from one attack to the next. Haytham made minimal movements, parrying each strike with the smallest adjustment of his blade, causing the strikes to slide past him or fall short.

"Faster, Specialist Ordo! Sense my blade just as you would the ball bearings. Let the Force guide your attacks and you will move faster than thinking."

Thrash concentrates and his attacks become more relaxed, natural. He twists his arms and brings his practice saber humming through the air, each strike ringing in the cargo hold. Rebounding from each strike, he changes the angle and forces Haytham to move more with each attack. Rather than be pushed back, Haytham moves out to the sides, leading Thrash around in circles.

Thrash keeps up his assault, breaking a sweat as he rains down blows against Haytham's defenses. Haytham stays calm, his footwork quick and sure as he neatly steps back and around Thrash's attacks, parrying when necessary. As Thrash begins to slow down, his arms throbbing, Haytham darts around one of his strikes and places the tip of his training saber against Thrash's neck.

Panting, Thrash huffs, "Damn."

"Never attack needlessly. This was good practice, but remember that in a real duel you can easily wear yourself out. Always keep an eye on your opponent to see if he's trying to lure you into a trap, or wearing you down. Take a break for now, we'll resume practice with the Force later."

"Alright. Let me find something to eat…"

Thrash tosses his training saber aside and staggers out of the cargo hold, breathing heavily and favoring his injured leg.

…

Kuat was one of the largest shipyards in the galaxy. The home of Sienar Fleet Systems, the Kuat Drive Yards were responsible for producing the lion's share of the Old Republic Navy, and later the Imperial Star Destroyers feared throughout the galaxy.

Now, they produced warships for the Galactic Alliance. Since the introduction of the _Victory_-class Star Destroyer, most capital ships in the galaxy favored a wedge design that balanced firepower with fighter capacity. Turbolaser batteries were arranged along the edges of the warship, with dorsal hangar bays allowing multiple levels to deploy fighters at once.

The planet of Kuat itself was orbited by a massive artificial ring structure composed of thousands of small stations and platforms, linked together to form the orbital shipyards. Dozens of warships were docked there, in various stages of construction, repair, and retrofitting.

Several _Nebula_-class Star Destroyers, the newest Alliance capital ship, were under construction. Alongside the numerous warships being built were civilian freighters, transports, and exploration vessels. The shipyards were a beehive of activity, automated construction vehicles moving between structures to carry materials to the crews who filled the superstructures of the half completed vessels. Massive repulsor cranes positioned large sections of hull for assembly, and here and there ships would light up as various systems were tested and installed.

For thousands of years, shipyards had been a major target during any galactic conflict, and over time Kuat had evolved elaborate defenses. Heavy turbolaser batteries were incorporated into many of the shipyard platforms, and smaller point defense batteries were scattered along the ring to deter fighters and missiles.

Heavy ion cannons on the planet's surface could disable capital ships with single round, although their range was limited to near orbit. Fighter garrisons were maintained on the planet numbering in the hundreds of squadrons. A small system defense fleet remained nearby at all times, comprised of a half dozen warships and a single capital ship.

When the Alliance First Fleet arrived in-system, it was unexpected, but not a serious cause for alarm. They broadcast all the correct identification signals and the defense fleet did not even raise their shields or sound an alert once the First Fleet was identified.

Admiral Bwua'tu notified the system fleet's commander that the First Fleet's fighter squadrons were carrying out a training exercise, and requested permission to use portions of the shipyard to carry out maneuvers. The fleet commander cleared the request with the shipyard authorities and in a short while the First Fleet launched all of her fighter squadrons.

The First Fleet was exceptionally well armed, and her fighter squadrons were all recently upgraded. The fleet carrier _Ralroost_ alone held more fighter squadrons than many fleets in earlier eras. One hundred and thirty-four fighter squadrons were assigned to the First Fleet, and as they streamed out of the hangar bays of their carriers, they formed a complex dance that seemed more elegant than any ballet Bwua'tu had ever seen.

He watched from the bridge of the bridge of his _Mon Calamari_-built Star Defender, the _Viscount_. The fighter squadrons formed up and fanned out across space, breaking into cones and wings to fly towards their individual targets. They knew where the control centers for the defenses were, where Kuat's fighter squadrons were based, and where every blind spot in the defense networks were located. Not that it mattered, since the guns remained silent as his fighters swarmed over the drive yards, thinking this to be a training exercise.

The workers on the platforms and structures of the ships in the drive yards stopped to marvel at the passing formations, and watch the graceful dance that ensued as the fighters darted past the platforms and began their attack runs.

Bombers swooped low to pass through the planetary shields and target the hangers that held Kuat's fighters. Interceptors made strafing runs against the turret control centers. The orbital ring around Kuat came alive with the flashing streaks of laser fire and bright puffs of explosions. The surface of Kuat blinked white and yellow where the bombs fell.

When the defenders realized the ambush, it was almost too late to even resist. The fighters were too many, and too close to properly defend against. Most of the defense squadrons never made it out of their hangars, and the turbolasers and defense turrets on the orbital stations were able to inflict only light casualties before being disabled.

The system defense fleet raced towards the planet, but Bwua'tu had been busy calculating a micro-jump while the fighters approached the planet. His navigators announced that they were prepared, and he gave the order.

The First Fleet blinked out of space, only to reappear a heartbeat later ahead of the system defense fleet. The First Fleet came out of hyperspace with no shields, but they had diverted full power to their turbolaser batteries. The system fleet was immediately caught in a crippling crossfire from the heavy gun batteries on the _Viscount_ and her supporting capital ships.

The shields on the system ships flared, struggling to deflect the immense volume of fire. Green and red lasers ripped into them as their shields failed, and the thick plating of their hulls appeared to melt before the volleys that sank into them. The system ships buckled and burst into flames, fuel and atmospheres igniting and blasting their frames apart.

In a matter of seconds, the First Fleet's weapons went silent. The remains of the system fleet drifted apart, thrown aside by the force of their explosions. Chunks of metal and random fragments of their engines and hulls floated away, still glowing from the heat of the turbolasers.

…


	9. Chapter 15

Thrash finishes changing the dressing on Lachance's head wound, and hands the assassin a small bottle of liquid.

"Take this for the pain if you want, it's engineered for minimal side effects so you shouldn't do anything too loopy on a full dosage."

Lachance eyes the bottle skeptically, "I think I'll be alright for now. Thank you again."

"No problem, I put people's internal organs back all the time. You may consider wearing a helmet, though. Until the bone finishes bonding with the implants, your skull will be a little soft."

Gingerly, Lachance touches the side of his head with his hand.

"How soft are you talking?"

Thrash shrugs, "I'm not really sure, but you should be cleared for light duty. Like I said, maybe wear a helmet for a few months."

"You're some doctor." Lachance quips.

Thrash gathers up his medical supplies into a small black case, "Ha, I'm no doctor. The autodoc handled all the surgical measures, I just did what it told me to."

"Oh. How very… reassuring. I was concerned that your medical license might be questionable, and now I learn that it's nonexistent."

"The droid was perfectly qualified. Or at least it told me so."

Thrash walks to the door of the medical bay and says over his shoulder as he leaves, "If you start vomiting uncontrollably or hallucinating, try to find me immediately."

Lachance looks concerned for a moment watching Thrash leave. He stands up slowly and paces back and forth across the room, and once confident that he is in no imminent danger of losing his footing or hallucinating, he kneels down next to the bed. Reaching underneath the frame, Lachance withdraws a small blaster pistol with a three inch barrel and tucks it inside of his jacket.

Stepping out of the medical bay, Lachance trails a hand on the bulkhead as he walks down the passageways. He passes the crew quarters, where Haytham and Sventrare are engaged in a heated discussion. Moving on, he reaches the cockpit and finds Elohirnok adjusting the controls.

Several panels have been removed from the central console and various wires and electronic components are spread across the deck. Elohirnok is on his back, head and shoulders underneath the console. Blue sparks periodically light up the underside of the console, casting shadows across the cockpit.

Lachance silently steps over to one of the chairs on the side of the cockpit and takes a seat, watching Elohirnok work. After a few minutes, Elohirnok slides out from beneath the console and sees Lachance.

"Hello there. How's the head feeling?"

"Perfectly fine. Tuning the controls?"

Elohirnok sits up and sifts through several of the components in front of him.

"Actually, just routine maintenance. Apparently Thrash's friend isn't much for repairs that aren't critical. His methods are also rather unorthodox."

Lachance looks over the various parts scattered about on the deck, but is unable to identify any.

"Can you disassemble that while we're in hyperspace? It seems a bit reckless."

Elohirnok continues sifting through the parts, locating the one he needs.

"It's really no problem, I've disabled most of the secondary systems. All we really need is power generation and basic flight controls for the hyperdrive. The navicomputer is on its own circuit anyways."

"Interesting. Are we expected to return this ship to its owner anytime soon?"

"I think that question has been complicated by recent events. By my count we are in possession of a wanted fugitive, a borrowed ship, and are in transit to carry out a military operation against the planet which is simultaneously the homeworld for our passenger and the owner of the ship. For now, I think the ship is safest if we hold onto it."

Lachance frowns and puts his hand to head. He takes out the bottle given to him by Thrash and opens it, draining its contents in a swift gulp.

After closing his eyes briefly, Lachance says, "Speaking of passengers, what do you make of Kael?"

Elohirnok slides back under the console and replies in between adjustments, "That, I'm not sure of. He says he's involved in reconstruction work on Nar Shaddaa, which I suppose I believe, but there's also the question of why he was flying over that facility in the first place."

Lachance muses, "It could have been a coincidence. Adumar isn't that far out of the way."

"Yes, but I don't really believe in coincidences. I find it very odd that he arrived when he did, and I think I want to keep him where I can see him for now. I put in a request for information with Intelligence, since I couldn't find anything on his background myself."

"Do you think he's a spy?"

"I don't know what I think he is, but until I find out, I don't like it."

…

Stefan Del Versio looked down on Nal Hutta from the viewport by his seat in the shuttle. The entire planet was a toxic cesspool. Centuries of waste and chemical discharge had saturated the environment, turning it into a yellow-green mire of slime and radiation. The native Hutts ruled over their dominion from squat, round palaces scattered throughout the unnatural swamps.

The shuttle descended through murky clouds and slowly turned to enter an enclosed hangar bay beside one such palace. Stefan stood up and shuffled off the shuttle alongside a few dozen other passengers. He was dressed in cheap, dirty clothing and had allowed his beard to grow scraggly and unkempt.

The passengers spread out, most heading to the exits of the hangar bay. A lucky few were met by relatives or friends, and some others by expectant business partners. Most continued on, dejected and forlorn, out into the industrial wasteland of Nal Hutta.

Stefan imitated their hunched posture, keeping his eyes low. He left the hangar bay and was immediately assailed by the stench of the chemical swamps. The noxious air was pervasive and inescapable on Nal Hutta.

Following a roughly paved path, Stefan made his way from the spaceport to a cluster of buildings a half mile away from the palace. Here he found a low structure, steps leading down to a submerged doorway several feet below ground level. Stefan clambered down and rapped sharply on the door.

With a scrape, a panel on the door slid open, revealing a wide yellow eye with a dark vertical pupil.

"Ah, Mr. Del Versio. Your appearance is changed, but your scent remains the same."

"I will have to amend that in the future, but for now it is sufficient. Kindly open the door, Ssla Rivok."

"As you wish."

The panel creaks closed and several bolts are loudly withdrawn. The door swung open and a slender, green-scaled Trandoshan gestures Stefan inside before pushing the door closed behind him.

Stefan looks around the room within. It was a low-ceilinged chamber, with circular tables and chairs arranged in the center. Dim lighting emanated from the corners of the room, and a dark skinned Togruta with pale white horns curving up the sides of his head stands behind a small bar at the far side of the room. Two doors lead off from the main chamber.

Apart from Stefan, there is one other patron inside. A middle aged woman dressed in a simple flight suit, her blond hair pulled up into a simple bun. Stefan straightens up and walks serenely over to the table, completely discarding his downtrodden guise.

The woman stands and extends a hand to Stefan, which he shakes, smiling pleasantly.

"Commander Telluria, it is a pleasure to see you again."

She returns the smile, "Likewise, Mr. Del Versio. For a while there, we were beginning to suspect you had dropped off the face of the galaxy."

"That was intentional, Commander." He pulls out his chair and waves his hand graciously, "After you."

Commander Telluria sits down and Stefan does likewise. The Togruta bartender walks over and inquires if they would like anything to drink.

Telluria looks over at the bar and says, "I'll have a Meridian Special, no ice and take care not to let it get cross contaminated."

Stefan raises an eyebrow at her order, "Nothing for me, thank you."

The Togruta moves away and Stefan leans across the table towards Telluria and intones quietly, "The last Blacknife resurfaced on Corellia recently."

Telluria crosses her ankles and folds her hands on the table.

"You're certain?"

"One of my men identified him from Tatooine. He's working for the Alliance now."

"Damn. If they're sheltering him, we'll never get our hands on him."

"I wouldn't say never. I was able to get in contact with him, and piqued his interest. I owe him a favor, and he helped me escape from Alliance custody. All told, I would say it worked out rather nicely. I imagine he thinks I will be quite useful to him, and I intend make sure he continues to think so."

Telluria smiles slowly, leaning back in her chair, "Fascinating. Could you tell if he remembers?"

"He did not appear to recognize me, although Blacknives always were rather introverted. I couldn't say for certain."

"Do you plan on going to Chorba?"

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"If you can establish yourself as his ally, this will work to our advantage quite nicely."

"Where is the Blacknife now?"

"Corellia, I would suppose. He's running errands for Raven."

Telluria scowls, "He'll be a problem, he always has been. Was he able to interrogate you?"

She looks suspiciously at Stefan and he squirms under her gaze.

"No, he was off-world when I was brought to Coruscant and I escaped shortly thereafter."

Relaxing, Telluria says, "Good. Lord Naegros will find him soon and convert him."

Still looking quite uncomfortable, Stefan replies, "Are you sure that is wise? Raven may be more valuable to us intact."

Telluria laughs softly, "Perhaps, but he has caused enough trouble that it may be far simpler to dispose of him via Lord Naegros' particular… methods."

The Togruta returns with Telluria's drink, which is a black liquid in a tall, narrow glass. Thanking him, Telluria takes a small sip.

She looks discerningly at Stefan, "Chorba is integral to the revolution. See that he remains that way. Learn what you can about the Blacknife, and keep me informed."

"Of course, Commander. I trust that things are going smoothly for you?"

Telluria drains her glass and stands, "When there is something you need to know, I will tell you, Mr. Del Versio. Good evening, and thank you for your service."

She walks briskly over to one of the side doors and leaves through it.

…

Ben Skywalker arrives in the Corellia system and his shuttle docks with the Alliance Intelligence vessel, the Advent Dawn. He and his troopers march down the boarding ramp into a spacious hangar with black, reflective floor plates and smooth metal furnishings.

The hangar is filled with small shuttles and fighters, small droids weaving around flight crews and personnel, fuel lines and cargo containers here and there. A young man in a crisp uniform meets them and directs Ben's troopers to a mess hall where they can grab a meal while Ben meets with Colonel Raven. The young messenger leads Ben through the ship's twisting passageways until they arrive at a small conference room.

Ben pulls out a seat and the messenger says, "Colonel Raven will be here shortly, he wanted to speak with you personally."

"Alright, thank you."

The young man excuses himself, and Ben waits.

Eventually, the door opens and Colonel Raven enters. What is left of his hair is cropped short and kept neat, and his uniform is immaculate, as always. He shakes Ben's hand and greets him.

"I'm so glad you could be spared for this assignment, young Master Skywalker. I requested you personally from Colonel Solo."

"Thank you, he mentioned that you needed Jedi Knights."

"Yes, you will be spearheading an operation to disable Centerpoint Station. It presents a considerable danger if the Corellians should be able to activate it, in the past Centerpoint Station has been used to destroy entire fleets and we cannot risk that it will be fired."

"I understand."

"A fellow Jedi Knight, also recommended to me by Colonel Solo, will go with you and your troopers. A unit of engineers will join you to disable the station permanently, your job is to ensure their safety and the success of their mission."

Ben nods seriously, "I look forward to it, sir."

…

Elohirnok takes the Sol Eternal out of hyperspace near the edge of the Corellian system, where hyperspace interdiction devices had been strewn across the spacelanes by the Fourth Fleet. Gravity well generators had no effect in realspace, but were capable of projecting shadows into hyperspace that imitated the effects of planets or stars, forcing ships to exit hyperspace.

He flashes his identification codes to a nearby squadron of interceptors, and the squadron leader gives him the go ahead to approach the main body of the fleet. Corellia is the fourth planet from her star, and the Alliance warships have taken up a position just far enough from Corellia to be within easy interception distance of any ships making a run for it, but still far enough away that her planetary defenses are of no use.

The rest of the team is gathered behind Elohirnok in the cockpit, and the console blinks with an incoming transmission. Elohirnok flicks a switch to his left, patching the signal through. Colonel Raven's small blue image appears above the console.

"Special Missions Team, good work getting here promptly. There is a developing situation in one of the orbital factories above Corellia. Our forces have been infiltrating and securing the orbital platforms steadily, but there are still thousands of civilian workers in the factories who were trapped there when we initiated the blockade."

Static crackles and Colonel Raven's image stretches and blurs before reforming.

"One of our commando teams went to secure an orbital factory, and CorSec sent a response team up from the planet to go in behind them. We have the airspace back under control, but they landed troops and are holed up inside the factory. Assist the commando team in flushing them out."

Thrash asks, "What about the workers, sir?"

"The technical staff in the factory are actively resisting us, and aiding the CorSec men who went aboard. Capture them if possible, to avoid any undue incidents, but your primary objective is eliminating resistance. I want to put them down hard before the rest of Corellia starts to get any ideas."

A distasteful expression comes over Thrash, "Sir, are the Corellians using the workers as hostages?"

"Not really. We've captured some of them, but they were assisting the rebels as much as they could before that."

Elohirnok cuts in, "What is the expected resistance, sir?"

"Difficult to say, initial reports from the commando team indicated upwards of thirty hostiles. They were well armed, and the commandos have taken casualties. Proceed with caution once aboard, but get there quickly."

"Aye, sir."

Elohirnok ends the transmission and sets a course for Corellia. Thrash cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders.

"Suit up." He says with a grin.

Haytham nods quietly, and turns to leave the cockpit. Lachance, still bandaged, takes a seat beside Elohirnok.

"I think it would be best if I stayed aboard and kept an eye on the general and our newest guest."

Elohirnok looks over at him, "Couldn't hurt. I was considering what to do with General Antilles. I think we'll send him planetside in an escape pod after we secure the station. We'll need to report it as a misfire or something, attribute it to battle damage."

"That could work. I'm not entirely comfortable with harboring him onboard."

"I try not to get involved in political squabbles. General Antilles is no traitor, but he'll have to just keep his head low until this is over."

…

Sventrare and Haytham stand in the crew quarters, preparing themselves. As Sventrare tightens the laces on his boots, using four arms to tie both at once, he looks over at Haytham and asks, "Does this mission feel wrong to you, Haytham?"

"That's difficult to say. I think that the Alliance is reacting too harshly, they almost seem to be deliberately provoking the Corellians."

"Admiral Niathal and Cal Omas claim that they need to act firmly to keep the Alliance intact."

Haytham kneads his brow thoughtfully, "I wonder if perhaps Corellia is in the right. When the New Republic collapsed after the fall of Coruscant, the galaxy was in chaos. The Galactic Federation of Free Alliances was formed in desperation to repel the Yuuzhong Vong, but few systems had any choice in joining."

Sventrare finished with his boots and straightened up, "But Corellia signed the charter documents. Doesn't that bind her to the bylaws of the Alliance?"

Haytham says harshly, "What kind of choice is it between joining the Alliance and being utterly destroyed?"

"It is still a choice, even if it seems obvious. Corellia enjoyed the benefits of joining the Alliance, but now she doesn't want to pay the costs of the war. That seems fundamentally unjust, Haytham."

"Sven, the Alliance is more corrupt by the day! You know that, it's obvious. The New Republic was ineffectual because the Senate couldn't decide on anything, but the Alliance is far too centralized. It's too simple for political appointees to skim off the top and manipulate the system to their benefit. What has the reconstruction achieved in the past decade?"

Sventrare folds his arms over his chest and pauses. Haytham continues, "Are the Jedi bound to be the enforcers for the Alliance? Is that all we are? The gauntleted fist of the Senate?"

"No. We protect the people of the Alliance however possible." Sventrare says slowly.

"What about Corellia? What about the workers that Colonel Raven only wants us to avoid killing so it doesn't inconvenience his image? I'm getting quite sick of being his attack dog!"

"Then we'll rescue the workers, Haytham. Lieutenant Halal can see to assisting the commandos and we'll make sure that the civilians are protected."

Haytham nods grimly, "Yes. The hell with Raven, he can complain to us all he wants after the mission."

…

Elohirnok guided the ship into the upper atmosphere of Corellia, docking with the orbital factory. The landing bays were supposedly secure, but they took no chances. When the docking clamps were secure, Haytham and Sventrare led the way down the docking tube and into the landing bay.

Climbing down from the docking tube, Elohirnok and Thrash followed the Jedi across the landing bay. Opposite them, two men wearing grey fatigues and combat boots stood holding blaster carbines. They wore various accessories, from grenades to medpacks, and stood with a relaxed air about them.

One of the men stepped forward, "Hello there, I'm Swarm. This is Mug. You're the Special Missions Team?"

Elohirnok answers, "That is correct. What's the situation?"

Swarm says, "Well we've trapped the rebels down in the crew quarters, and are slowly flushing them out. There's also some resistance from the reactor technicians. Another team is moving up to secure the bridge."

Haytham says, "The reactor seems most critical, we'll go there first and then assist whichever of your teams needs it."

Swarm nods, "That works. Mug and I are heading back down to the crew quarters. Do you have the station layout?"

Elohirnok says, "We do, they were transmitted to us en route."

Swarm gestures towards a set of turbolifts which have been jammed open forcibly, "The reactor techs cut power to the lifts, so we've had to use cables to get between decks. It slows us down, and they ambushed us the first time we were moving through, but the rebels are pinned down now."

He turns and walks towards one lift. Slinging his carbine over his back, Swarm reaches out and grabs onto a cable hanging inside the turbolift and swings out, locking his feet over the cable and shimmying up quickly. Mug follows him.

Elohirnok takes out a datapad and calls up a deck plan for the station. The others gather around him, looking down at the datapad.

Thrash points to one of the turbolifts, "It looks like that leads directly to the engine level. I'll go first."

He jogs over to the turbolift, looks down, and swings out into the black abyss. He disappears down the cable without hesitation. Sventrare moves down after him, leaving Elohirnok and Haytham standing near the entrance to the turbolift.

Haytham looks cautiously at the edge of the opening, apparently weighing his options. Elohirnok raises an eyebrow, "Something wrong, Haytham?"

"I really can't stand heights. This is perfectly suicidal."

Elohirnok laughs, "After you, then. If you fall you can land on someone else, not me."

"How reassuring, Lieutenant."

Elohirnok jerks his head towards the turbolift shaft, "Come on, time is a wasting."

Sighing resignedly, Haytham grabs the cable with both hands and carefully lowers himself into the chasm. He moves methodically and steadily, with Elohirnok a few feet above him the entire time. As they descend, Elohirnok keeps an ear out for any unusual sounds, wary of an ambush.

Eventually Thrash reaches the doors to the reactor level, which have been pried open. He swings into the room beyond, and the others slide down after him.

The reactor room is a huge circular chamber, with a set of three turbolifts on two opposite sides of the room. The ceiling is approximately fifty feet high, and a multitude of catwalks crisscross the upper sections of the engine room. Twisted, incomprehensible snarls of piping intersect above their heads and electrical cables and tubing flows across the floor in rivulets and tributaries, pooling beneath the deckplates through access ports cut into the floor.

In the center is a giant reactor, pulsing and glowing with a faint blue light from its core. A transparent shield surrounds it, standing fifteen feet away from the reactor, with two doors permitting access. A series of consoles and control panels surround the reactor inside this shielded area.

Three commandos are standing off to the left, with eight men kneeling in front of them. The prisoners are dressed in work clothes, and their hands are bound behind their backs. Two commandos patrol the catwalks above with sniper rifles, and two more are inside the shielded area with two technicians.

Strewn across the floor near the turbolifts are the bodies of four technicians with weapons nearby, and one dead commando. Blaster marks score the walls of the chamber here and there.

One of the commandos up on the catwalks calls out, "Hey! Strike team is here."

Haytham and Sventrare walk over to where the prisoners are being held. One of the commandos near them steps forward and says, "You're late to the party, Masters Jedi. We're just cleaning up now."

Haytham asks, "Are these men workers on this station?"

The commando scowls, "We're not sure. Some of them were armed when we came in, and when the smoke started to clear, they all surrendered. They killed our man over there, Nexu. Until I'm certain, they're all considered hostile."

Sventrare looks the prisoners over, "Surely the workers here will have legitimate credentials, and the rebels will only be dressed as technicians."

The commando joins him and says, "You would think so, but most of these guys didn't really pay much attention to the work regulations. People don't carry around their credentials all the time when they go to work, so we'll have to bring them in and verify all that. It's a major pain, I'd just as soon space them all."

Sventrare looks horrified, "What? Why would you do that?"

"Saves on paperwork, you know."

Thrash and Elohirnok approach the doorway to the shielded area near the reactor and enter. One of the commandos has a blaster pistol out and is shouting at the two technicians.

"I'm going to count to five, and if you haven't deactivated that sequence, he's dead!"

He points his pistol at one of the technicians, and glares fiercely at the other, who stares impassively ahead. Elohirnok steps over to them and inquires, "What seems to be the matter, trooper?"

The commando with the pistol turns slightly towards Elohirnok, keeping the weapon trained on the technician.

"This is the head technician and the reactor maintenance chief. They set the reactor to enter an overload sequence when we boarded the station, and according to our estimates we have about ten minutes until the reactor overheats and melts a hole through the station."

Elohirnok looks at the head technician, "Can you stop it?"

The man continues staring ahead, "It's irreversible."

The commando lowers his pistol and shoots the maintenance chief in the stomach, shouting, "Bullshit! There are safety protocols, backup failsafes. Unlock the console and activate the damn sequence now!"

The maintenance chief clutches his stomach and slumps against the console in front of him, groaning.

"Don't. Let 'em burn." He wheezes out, face contorted with pain.

Thrash moves over to one side, exchanging a look with Elohirnok. He takes up a position on the other side of the two commandos, holding his blaster carbine low.

Elohirnok watches the chief technician warily, "How do I unlock the consoles?"

The technician doesn't react, and the commando steps up into his face, his voice soft and dangerous.

"I will leave you and your entire crew to burn if you don't cooperate."

The technician glances over towards the row of prisoners, and then resumes staring ahead. The commando, his anger evidently just barely in check, aims his pistol at the maintenance chief.

"Five."

Thrash starts, looking concerned.

"Four."

The commando raises his voice, stepping back from the head technician.

"Three."

The technician looks over at the prisoners again, then down at the console in front of him.

Elohirnok says, "There's no reason to do this. Reset the controls."

"Two!"

The technician's face hardens and he spits at the commando, "Fascist scum."

The commando fires his weapon into the maintenance chief's head, then raises it and shoots the technician in the face. The head technician sprawls backwards, collapsing onto the floor in a spray of charred bone and blood.

Elohirnok steps up to the console and begins examining the controls. Thrash has aimed his carbine at the commando, keeping it at waist level. The other commando in the shielded area is standing by the door, watching.

The first commando asks, "Can you deactivate it?"

Concentrating on the controls, Elohirnok replies, "I'm not sure. It's a complicated system and I'm not sure what they did to it. I think I can delay the meltdown, but I have no idea for how long."

"We'll have to evacuate."

The commando takes out a comlink and begins speaking into it, detailing the withdrawal plan to his partner on the bridge.

Outside, Haytham and Sventrare examine the prisoners. One of them beckons to Sventrare, and he steps over to the prisoner. The man jerks his head down, indicating for Sventrare to come closer to speak to him.

As Sventrare leans down, one of the commandos calls out, "Wait! Stay back!"

When Sventrare is between him and the commandos, the prisoner springs to his feet and runs towards to the turbolifts, keeping Sventrare behind him as a shield. The three commandos scramble to line up a shot as the prisoner skids around the corner of the transparent shield and bolts into the turbolift entrances.

When the commandos are distracted, the other prisoners scramble onto their feet and begin running for the turbolifts on each side of the room. Chaos erupts when the snipers in the catwalks above begin firing down, and the commandos on the ground fire indiscriminately, gunning down several prisoners.

Haytham ignites his lightsaber and slices through the carbine held by one of the commandos, pushing another off his feet with the Force. Sventrare ignites his lightsabers and jumps towards the turbolifts. As he lands, the blaster fire stops.

Thrash and the two commandos by the reactor rush out from behind the shield, and Haytham stares down the third commando who had been guarding the prisoners. The man slowly lowers his weapon holding up his hand towards Haytham.

The reactor room echoes with the sound of blaster fire, and the prisoners all lie dead. Most of them were cut down by the two snipers, who are both training their weapons on Haytham. Seeing that the prisoners are dead, Haytham adopts a neutral stance and deactivates his lightsaber.

Sventrare does likewise, looking around at the still smoking corpses scattered in front of the turbolifts.

"What the hell?" He yells at the commandos.

One of the guards answers him, "I warned you. It was a trick, Master Jedi."

"Why did you shoot them all?" Sventrare shouts.

The commando with the pistol steps over from the door to the reactor, saying, "They were all either disguised rebels or cooperating with them. They planned to overload the reactor and destroy the station."

The guard who warned Sventrare says, "Master Jedi, you could have been killed. Next time, stay out of our lines of fire."

The two commandos attacked by Haytham eye him warily, "Whose side are you on, Jedi?"

Haytham snaps, "My own. I won't tolerate that treatment of prisoners."

"They were escaping rebels! They tried to trap us on the station and overload the reactor."

Elohirnok steps out from the reactor room and raises his voice, "I activated some safety measures, but the reactor temperature is still climbing steadily. I would advise getting out of here with all haste."

The commandos immediately move towards the turbolift. The two snipers climb down from the catwalks, folding down the stocks on their rifles. Sventrare stays behind for a moment to look over the prisoners, but none of them were still alive.

Sventrare felt inexplicable rage filling him as he watched the commandos who had callously dispatched the prisoners climb up the cables in the turbolift shaft. He clenched his fists and almost lashed out with the Force, but stopped himself. He closed his eyes briefly and followed them up the cables, clamping down on his anger to keep it under control.

…

Colonel Raven is sitting at his desk when an urgent message blinks on his datapad. He almost ignores it, since the reports are pouring in from all fronts, but since it was flagged as a top priority message, he opens it and reads it quickly.

As he reads, his eyes narrow and he exhales slowly.

"Those cunning bastards," He says quietly.

Picking up a holocommunicator, he sets it on his desk and initiates a transmission to Jacen Solo. As soon as the connection is made, he says, "Colonel Solo, I have urgent news."

"Is it Ben?"

"No, he's fine. His mission on Centerpoint Station is proceeding smoothly, I believe he is on his way back to the fleet. This is about General Antilles."

"You've located him?" Jacen asks urgently.

Colonel Raven smiles coldly, "Yes, and I think you'll find this most interesting. It seems that Special Missions Team Seventeen smuggled him off Coruscant. Perhaps their sudden withdrawal from Adumar was no mere coincidence, either."

"Going rogue, eh? Where are they now?"

"On an orbital station above Corellia," Colonel Raven replies.

Jacen folds his hands behind his back and says, "Take Ben and Tahiri to apprehend them. I would prefer to avoid an altercation with Haytham and Sventrare, but we must keep Wedge Antilles out of the hands of the rebels. It would be disastrous if he joined them."

Colonel Raven makes a curt nod, "I understand. There's nothing to fear, I'll contain the situation."

…

After leading the attack on Kuat, Admiral Bwua'tu transferred command of the fleet and joined up with the Bothan fleet which had been built in secret. His authentication had only been required to achieve initial surprise, and now his successor would oversee the Fondorian volunteers who were storming the orbital shipyards and landing on the planet to capture the key facilities.

Large numbers of assault droids augmented the volunteer forces, who were equipped with top of the line weaponry supplied by Chorba the Hutt's network of arms dealers. Admiral Bwua'tu was impressed with the organization of the rebels.

The Bothan fleet was comprised of six new warships, designated as Bothan Assault Cruisers. They were long, angular vessels with square paneled siding and large, powerful thrusters covering the rear of the ship. Designed for speed and maneuverability, they packed a serious punch and had shields modeled on the famed Mon Calamari systems, featuring double redundancies that allowed for easy repairs under fire.

Backing up these ships were a dozen refitted _Carrack_ cruisers and eight of the aging Old Republic _Dreadnaught_-class battleships. The _Carracks_ were outfitted as picket ships, specializing in anti-fighter laser cannons and point defense missile batteries. The _Dreadnaughts_ had been fitted as carriers, and thanks to their spacious design, were easy to modify.

Admiral Bwua'tu had conferred via hololink with the commanders of the CorSec police forces docked on Corellia, and with a large force of independent vessels that the Corellians had assembled near the outskirts of the system. They were prepared to break through the blockade over Corellia when the Bothan Fleet engaged.

Admiral Bwua'tu checked in with his ship captains, and confirmed that the fighter squadrons knew their areas of responsibility. Because of the hyperspace interdiction that the Fourth Fleet was conducting, Admiral Bwua'tu planned to exit hyperspace far from Corellia and approach at sublight speeds to keep his fleet together and pick off roving patrols from the Fourth Fleet.

Hopefully, they would take the bait and move to attack his ships, allowing the CorSec-led forces to attack the interdiction vessels and fighters over Corellia, restoring their control over the space around the planet.

Receiving final confirmation from his captains, Admiral Bwua'tu signaled his navigator and the fleet blurred forward, tearing into hyperspace.

…

Elohirnok was the first one back into the landing bay. The docking tube that led to the Sol Eternal was across the room from him, over a hundred yards away. A large fueling cart was parked near a shuttle in the center of the hangar bay, and other commandos were climbing out from the turbolifts to his left and right.

Standing next to the shuttle was Colonel Raven, flanked by Ben Skywalker and a petite blond haired Jedi whom Elohirnok did not recognize.

As the rest of the team moved up behind him, they paused, looking at Colonel Raven, who walked towards them with Ben Skywalker at his side.

Raven extended his palms towards them cautiously, moving slowly, "Gentlemen, I don't want to cause a scene. Would you please disarm yourselves?"

Elohirnok's hand moves to his blaster, "Why?"

The docking tube opens up and Lachance stumbles out, prodded by a GAG trooper. Kael and Wedge Antilles are next, escorted by a half dozen men clad in charcoal grey plated armor. Haytham places his hand on his lightsaber and steps in front of Colonel Raven.

He asks, in a loud clear voice, "What are your stormtroopers doing here?"

Ben shouts, "You've betrayed the Alliance, Haytham! You were siding with the rebels and helping Antilles flee to Corellia."

Haytham snaps back, "You had no right to send men to kill him. Colonel, please stand aside."

Sventrare puts a hand on Haytham's arm to hold him back as Ben unclips his lightsaber. The commandos behind them scatter to the sides, giving the Jedi a wide berth. Thrash moves cautiously to stand beside Haytham.

Elohirnok looks straight at Colonel Raven, "Sir, you and I both know that General Antilles is on our side. He's loyal to a fault."

Colonel Raven looks over at Ben, then back at Elohirnok, "Just stand down for now, Lieutenant. We can sort this out later."

Ben ignites his blue lightsaber and levels the point at Elohirnok, "Throw down your weapons, and you won't be harmed."

Sventrare pushes past Haytham to confront Ben, "How should he believe that? I just saw your men slaughter helpless prisoners. Only a fool would surrender to your kind!"

Haytham and Elohirnok step back from Sventrare, exchanging a nervous glance. Colonel Raven places a hand on Ben's shoulder, saying, "Easy son, don't let him provoke you."

Ben brushes Colonel Raven off, addressing Sventrare, "You've never seen war, Sventrare! We have to be harsh to preserve peace, or the galaxy will fall apart."

Sventrare glares at him, snarling, "I've seen your work, Ben. You call yourself a Jedi? The men you're working with are no better than the Empire was, or the Vong!"

"How would you know? You never fought either!"

Sventrare is shouting now, his lightsabers in his hands, "I know what it means to be a Jedi, and a Jedi never condones murder!"

Colonel Raven backpedals, stepping away from Ben. The other Jedi, Tahiri, looks on nervously, holding her own lightsaber near her side.

Ben places both hands on his lightsaber, settling into a low guard stance, the tip of his blade trained on Sventrare. He says harshly, "Sometimes you have to make a choice between a few deaths now, and countless others down the line. You're lying to yourself if you think otherwise!"

Sventrare says, "What would your father think if he saw you? You're an embarrassment to the Jedi code."

"What do you know about my father, Sven? He's fought all his life, what about you? Are you afraid to fight for the Alliance, is that why your master ran and hid when the Vong invaded?"

Sventrare ignites his lightsabers, the green glow bathing his face in an alien light, and steps forward, "That's enough out of you, insolent pup! Don't you dare insult Master Zhayne."

The commandos have slowly moved as far away from the Jedi as possible, and Elohirnok, Thrash, and Haytham have also moved off to one side, keeping an eye on Tahiri.

Ben moves towards Sventrare, raising his lightsaber, "You're a coward and a traitor. Drop your weapon!"

Sventrare lunges forward, twirling his lightsabers in two downward slashes. Ben steps aside and slashes at Sventrare's feet. Sventrare jumps up to avoid Ben's lightsaber and directs an offhanded blow at Ben's head.

Ben twists out of the way and cuts at Sventare's wrist. Sventrare blocks with his other lightsaber and pushes Ben's weapon aside, thrusting at him. Ben skips back and raises his hand, blasting Sventrare with the Force.

Sventrare is kicked off his feet and into the air. He tucks and rolls to land on his feet as Ben leaps towards him, lightsaber raised above his head. Sventrare parries as Ben lands, and the two exchange a ferocious series of blows at close range, fighting to get inside each other's guard.

Sventare's superior size and strength allow him to repeatedly batter aside Ben's lightsaber, but Ben moves with each hit, sliding around Sventrare's attacks and following up again and again with quick slashes.

Kael watches them from across the landing bay. The GAG troopers behind him are completely focused on the flashing lightsaber blades beside the shuttle, and Kael slowly inches away from them, catching Lachance's eye.

Haytham watches Tahiri, both of them uneasily keeping an eye on the other's lightsaber. Elohirnok's hand remains on his blaster, and he gauges the distance to the GAG troopers beside Kael.

Ben steps in close to Sventrare and pulls his lightsaber up in a tight cut, leaving a shallow mark on Sventrare's leg. He steps behind Sventrare and spins around, bringing his lightsaber around.

Sventrare lifts two arms above his head, blocking Ben's attack behind his back. He pushes Ben's lightsaber up as he turns, slashing low with his other lightsaber. Ben springs off the ground, somersaulting over Sventrare's head in a Force powered leap.

Sventrare pivots to follow him and swings both lightsabers up, slashing at Ben's back as he rolls through the air. Ben catches the lightsabers on his own at the last second and pushes off with the Force, sailing through the air to land on top of the shuttle.

Sventrare paces back and forth below him. Ben strikes the edge of the shuttle with his lightsaber, showering sparks down on Sventrare and shouts, "Surrender! I have the high ground."

Haytham calls out, "Be careful, Sven!"

Kael takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Thrash nudges one of the commandos beside him and whispers, "This could get extremely dangerous if those Jedi go all out."

The commando nods and points towards the turbolift, where the commandos are slowly moving to take cover. Sventrare gathers himself up for a leap, bending his legs and channeling the Force.

Ben looks down at him and raises his lightsaber, "Don't try it."

Sventrare braces himself to jump. Kael begins to sweat and shake slightly, and Lachance looks at him curiously. Suddenly, the shuttle flies off the ground and crashes into the ceiling of the hangar bay with tremendous force, crushing the fin on top of the shuttle. Metal creaks and squeals as the shuttle is pressed against the overhead.

Tahiri and Haytham both turn to look at Kael, whom they can feel channeling the Force. To them, he is alight with the bright glow of the Force as he concentrates. Tahiri ignites her lightsaber and throws it at Kael, screaming.

Lachance shouts a warning and Kael drops down at the last moment, Tahiri's blue lightsaber swirling over him and slicing the wall behind him. The GAG troopers are stunned, unsure what to do.

Lachance shouts, "The Jedi are killing everyone! Run for your lives!"

Elohirnok draws his blaster and starts firing, killing two GAG troopers immediately. The other two look around, raising their weapons, but Lachance stabs one in the back with a vibroblade and Elohirnok shoots the other in the head.

Kael twists on the ground and pulls Tahiri's lightsaber into his hand, chuckling to himself. The commandos scramble for cover in the turbolifts, and Thrash sprints towards the docking tube. Elohirnok and Haytham are not far behind.

Chaos erupts in the hangar as Colonel Raven and Tahiri both shout contradictory orders at the commandos, while Lachance continues bellowing about the Jedi.

Kael stands up and tears the docking tube doors open with the Force, hurrying inside. Sventrare stares at the shuttle, which is wedged against the ceiling, and then makes a Force powered jump towards the docking tube. He lands at a full sprint, tearing towards the doors. He is the last one through, and behind him the commandos have begun firing at the docking tube.

Blaster bolts spray the docking tube as Sventrare ducks through. He can feel the heat as they scorch the metal behind him. Up ahead, Elohirnok races to the cockpit and begins the engine ignition sequence. As Sventrare reaches the other end of the docking tube, he can hear the commandos climbing into the tube.

Hauling himself out of the tube, he sees Kael standing calmly beside the exit. Kael smiles, waves him through, and then rips the tube in half with the Force, severing the connection as he closes the doors on the _Sol Eternal_.


	10. Chapter 16

Admiral Bwua'tu brought his fleet out of hyperspace well beyond the range of the interdiction vessels patrolling the Corellian system. His navigators were skilled, and the fleet arrived in precise formation. Picket rings were established by his frigates, and the modified _Dreadnaught_-class carriers launched waves of assorted TIE Interceptors and X-Wings.

Several nearby patrols were quickly eliminated by coordinated attacks from the frigates and fighters. Bwua'tu transmitted the code to the waiting rebel fleet lurking on the far side of the system, and the various ships cobbled together by the Corellians began approaching their homeworld from the opposite direction as the Bothan fleet.

Bwua'tu groomed the sleek fur on his head back with one hand as he walked across the bridge, eyeing the tactical displays that showed a three dimensional image of the system. The core group of the Fourth Fleet, comprised of the fleet carrier _Peacebringer_ and the Mon Calamari Star Defender _Dauntless, _along with their escort ships, was forming up and moving towards the Bothan fleet.

Already, the leading fighter squadrons from the _Dreadnaught_ carriers were closing to engagement distance with the outlying elements of the Fourth Fleet. They were heavily outmatched by the interceptors launched from the _Peacebringer_, however. The Alliance had equipped her fleets with the latest designs of fightercraft, including the E-Wing Interceptor, an evolution over the fabled X-Wing that combined the fire control innovations of the heavier B-Wing fighters with the shielding and maneuverability that defined the iconic X-Wing.

The pilots who flew with the Fourth Fleet were also exceptionally skilled, rated second only to those of the Third Fleet who had Wedge Antilles to thank for their intensive training and selection programs. The pilots in Bwua'tu's fleet were mostly from Fondor or Commenor, and while they included many veterans of the Yuuzhong Vong War, they were untested as combat units. Bwua'tu knew that he would lose a fighter engagement, and worked to close with the enemy capital ships as quickly as possible.

The planetary defense forces garrisoned on Corellia, primarily A-Wing interceptor squadrons, had scrambled when their allies launched their attacks. Hundreds of Corellian fighters swarmed up from the surface and flew to engage the blockading frigates. Each frigate had a handful of her own fighters supporting her, and they tangled with the Corellians in the skies below the orbital factories, lasers flashing back and forth.

The other capital ships in the Fourth Fleet, mainly _Republic_ and one newer _Nebula_-class Star Destroyers, were strung out across the system to support the interdiction operations. Bwua'tu watched on his tactical displays as four warships raced towards his fleet, recalling their patrols from the edges of the system.

His own fighters were getting mauled against the ace flyers of the Fourth Fleet, with their superior fightercraft and numbers allowing them to quickly pick apart his own fighter wings. However, the assault group of his fleet, composed of the Bothan Assault Cruisers, was rapidly closing in behind the fighters. Bwua'tu gauged the speed of the Fourth Fleet's Star Destroyers and made his decision.

Stepping over to his control station, he issued the order,

"Assault Cruiser captains, take your ships forward and engage at will. Break into fighting pairs and concentrate on the _Peacebringer, _I want her destroyed before she can bring her fighter screens back. Escort frigates, support the fighters and leave the carriers."

His captains carried out his orders promptly, and the Assault Cruiser that he was on paired up with her sister ship. The assault group accelerated past the fighters, letting the _Carrack_ frigates join the fray to tie up the Fourth Fleet's interceptors. The six Bothan Assault Cruisers tore past the escort vessels protecting the _Peacebringer, _absorbing their broadsides with their reinforced shields. Two cruisers broke off to engage the massive Mon Calamari warship, the _Dauntless, _while the remaining four moved to surround the fleet carrier.

The escort frigates of the Fourth Fleet split apart, some moving to counter Bwua'tu's frigates, while others reversed course and turned in wide arcs to come about and protect the _Peacebringer. _The Bothan cruisers were heavily armed, and they delivered punishing volleys of turbolaser fire at point blank range to the _Peacebringer. _The _Dauntless _was more than a match for the two cruisers engaging her individually, but together their combined firepower forced her to concentrate power to her shields and limited her offensive options.

The Star Destroyers of the Fourth Fleet raced across the system, but they were sluggish capital ships designed more for power than speed. The melee above Corellia intensified as the reserve fleet cobbled together by the Corellians came into action against the frigates blockading the planet. Fighter wings struggled to stay together as they danced in and out of the orbital factories, darting down to assault the frigates from time to time.

The _Peacebringer _was flagging under the combined firepower of four Assault Cruisers, while the _Dauntless _held her own. Several escort frigates had moved to support the fleet carrier, firing on the Assault Cruisers. The shields on the _Peacebringer _were weakening, not designed to withstand close range fire from capital ships.

One of the cruisers attacking the _Dauntless _began to reduce her turbolaser volleys, diverting power to shields as the _Dauntless _hammered her relentlessly. The frigates joined in, and several blasts impacted on the cruiser's hull, tearing open her armor.

The Bothan's X-Wing Squadrons were severely battered, and the TIE Interceptors had been almost completely eliminated, but the addition of the Carrack frigates had allowed them to inflict equally heavy casualties on the E-Wings of the Fourth Fleet. Debris from the chaotic melee floated past the frigates as the remaining fighters danced around, dodging green and red laser trails.

Bwua'tu stood on the bridge, carefully watching the Star Destroyers make their way across the system. He looked out of the forward viewscreen at the _Peacebringer_, and saw her shields flicker and die as streams of heavy turbolasers poured in from the four cruisers surrounding her. Blasts pounded her hull and opened huge rents. Flames erupted along the length of the vessel and the engines pulsed and slowly went dark as the ship lost power.

The combined firepower of the _Dauntless _and her escort frigates broke through the shields of one of the Bothan cruisers, and the two ships attacking her broke off to flee towards Corellia. Their heavy armor absorbed most of the damage inflicted by the lighter guns of the frigates, but the turbolasers of the _Dauntless _punched a number of grisly wounds into the first cruiser, whose shields flickered on and off sporadically as the repair crews raced to restore power to the generators.

Bwua'tu pressed down the key to open a channel to his entire fleet,

"Target the frigates, inflict maximum casualties and avoid the _Dauntless. _Cover the carriers as they fall back to Corellia."

The _Dreadnaughts _swung wide around the remnants of the Fourth Fleet's carrier group, joining up with their _Carrack _frigates as they did so. The fighters were breaking off, the remaining squadrons of the Fourth Fleet moving to attack the Assault Cruisers.

The _Dauntless _shifted power from her shields to her turbolaser batteries and slowly turned to engage the four cruisers that had disabled the _Peacebringer. _These cruisers scattered among the Fourth Fleet's escort frigates, using their maneuverability to prevent the _Dauntless _from lining up a broadside. As the mingled with the frigates, they allowed their armor to protect them while they concentrated on delivering repeated volleys from their heavier guns.

Bright green turbolaser fire knifed through the weaker shields and armor of the frigates and inflicted terrible damage. E-Wing fighters flew in to protect the frigates, racing past the cruisers and firing torpedoes against their hulls. The projectiles arced in and impacted with bright flashes, leaving smoking craters in the cruisers' armor.

As the fighters engaged them, the cruisers were forced to shift more power to their shields, and the turbolaser fire became less frequent. Bwua'tu led his assault group away from the _Dauntless _and broke contact with the frigates, leaving many drifting helplessly through space as they burned and broke apart.

The field of space around the assault group was littered with the broken remains of fighters and frigates from both sides, and the debris glinted as it reflected the light of Corellia's star, turning slowly in the vast abyss of space.

The _Dauntless _raced to catch Bwua'tu's assault group, but it could not keep up. The Bothan fleet regrouped as it approached Corellia, and the remains of the Fourth Fleet's carrier group turned to join their Star Destroyers.

…

Elohirnok saw the indicator light flash from green to red as the ship suddenly broke her connection with the station. For a terrifying moment, the _Sol Eternal _fell towards the surface of Corellia before he got the engines online and activated his maneuvering thrusters.

Elohirnok's heart raced and he seized a headset, shouting into it, "Someone get on our guns! And find General Antilles!"

As he flew out from behind the orbital station, he saw an amazing sight. Hundreds of fighters clashed above Corellia in a deadly ballet, spitting colored flashes of light and exploding silently. Wedge Antilles ran into the cockpit behind him, and stopped suddenly.

"What in the hell is going on?"

Elohirnok shook his head slowly, "I think the fleet is attacking Corellia. Those are the planetary defense squadrons out there."

Wedge looks around, glancing down at the sensor displays on the console, "That's not all of it. Look at the ship signatures, there are dozens of vessels bearing down from the opposite side of the planet, and there's a huge cluster further out."

Elohirnok looks down, frowning, "Radiation signatures are off the charts, there must be some heavy fighting going on. Who in the blazes could they be fighting?"

"I think I have an idea about that, and I don't like it."

Turning around, Elohirnok fixes the general with a solemn gaze, "Now or never general. I can launch an escape pod down to Corellia if you want, or you can stick with us. I think we're fugitives, too, so it might be less awkward than before."

Wedge looks out at the hectic scene before them and then over towards the marbled green surface of Corellia. There is a long silence and then he says, "I'll go down to the planet, perhaps I can reason with the leaders of this rebellion. I don't want to see my planet destroyed by a senseless war if there's anything I can do about it."

"Very well, sir. Signal me when you're ready for an ejection pass, I'll swing as close as I can and cover your descent with chaff in case any of these fighters decide to take an unhealthy interest in you."

Wedge nods and leaves the cockpit, making his way to the escape pods. Along the way, he passes Sventrare, who is slumped near the docking tube in dull shock.

Lachance and Thrash are manning the defensive turrets. Wedge hurries past them and climbs into an escape pod. He presses the intercom to the cockpit and says,

"Alright, standing by for launch, Lieutenant."

Elohirnok pilots the ship down towards Corellia, staying clear of the fighter engagement as best he can. Lachance and Thrash fire on any fighters that fly too close, chasing them off. As the ship approaches the atmosphere, Elohirnok levels out and jettisons three escape pods, one of the Wedge's. As he angles away from the planet, he also deploys several canisters of chaff, light metal fragments and fake beacons designed to disrupt targeting systems.

Haytham enters the cockpit and sits down beside Elohirnok. He looks slightly fatigued, but otherwise calm given the circumstances.

"Elohirnok, I've just received word that Luke Skywalker has called for a gathering of the Jedi Order on Ossus. The Academy there will be a safe location for now, until you can sort out what to do."

"The blockade appears to be in disarray for now, select the coordinates for Ossus in the navicomputer and I'll plot a course there."

…

Luke Skywalker walks with his wife, Mara Jade, along one of the stone balconies that wraps around the Jedi Temple on Ossus. It is newly constructed, but was built using stones from the ruins of the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin Four where he began the Jedi Order.

They walk in a comfortable silence, enjoying the respite from the congested atmosphere of Coruscant. Ossus was once a beautiful world, but desolation unleashed thousands of years prior had left the planet's surface scarred and desolate. Very little grew here, and many areas of the planet were still irradiated, but it had once been the home to a vast library and academy for the Jedi of old. Luke felt a surreal connection to them when he was on Ossus, and thought that the planet served as a valuable lesson for the younger Jedi.

Ossus was a relic of the old times, but also a beacon of what he hoped would come in the days ahead. Rebuilding, restoring the forgotten traditions of the Jedi, but always wary of the dangers they faced. The faint hum of approaching engines made him turn, and he saw a small transport flying down towards the academy's landing pads. Numerous craft were arriving, since he had called all available Jedi to the academy.

Suddenly, Mara gasped and stumbled. Luke reached out to her, concerned.

"Mara, what is it?"

She put a hand to her forehead, looking anguished, "I've just felt something in the Force, something terrible."

"Is it Ben?" Luke inquired, a sinking feeling settling over him, fear gnawing at the back of his mind.

Mara closed her eyes, shuddering, "I think so. It was such a flash of overpowering anger, and then… nothing."

…

Admiral Cha Niathal, a dark skinned Mon Calamari whose eyes were more oblong than most of her species, met Jacen Solo in the depths of the Crix Madine Military Reserve. Far from prying eyes, they sat down in a large circular room filled with low holodisplays that projected images of various sectors of the galaxy alongside planetary information, reports from Alliance intel, and estimates of economic activity.

Jacen looked over the myriad displays, saying, "My my, Admiral. You've been busy."

Niathal blinks slowly, "So have you. Are you prepared to begin your operations on Nar Shaddaa?"

"Within the week. I plan to have transports ready with the necessary supplies by tomorrow. Any news from Corellia?"

Niathal taps her fingers on the arms of her chair in a steady tempo, replying in a carefully level tone, "It appears that Nek Bwua'tu has renouned his oath to the Alliance. He recently led the First Fleet against Kuat, and reports from this morning indicate that Bothawui has lent her fleets to the Corellians' cause as well. Regiments from Fondor have landed on Kuat and taken over the shipyards. We face open rebellion."

"What has Cal Omas said?"

"He committed half heartedly to bring the Third Fleet up to standby. They were at minimal readiness, most of the crews were either receiving retraining or on leave. They'll be returning to Coruscant immediately, but it will be at least a week or more before the Fleet is prepared for action. The loss of the First Fleet makes our situation quite precarious, but Omas refuses to take drastic measures for fear of losing his popularity."

"What about the Second Fleet?" Jacen asks.

Niathal sighs, "They're on patrol near the path of the Vong invasion route. Colonies out there are still skittish about stragglers, even though there hasn't been a confirmed Vong attack in seven years. Pirates are a concern, though, but not so desperate that we can't spare the fleet to suppress a rebellion!"

Jacen stands up and walks around a display highlighting the Core Worlds, centered on Coruscant. He pauses, looking over the reports from Kuat.

"What did he propose to do about the rebels' attack on Kuat?"

"Nothing so far. He's formed a special branch of the advisory council to draft emergency measures. They're a bunch of inept nerf herders, though. Not a single military officer on the council, either."

Jacen finishes looking at the reports and turns back to Niathal, "How much support do you have in the Senate?"

"Some, but not enough to overrule Omas. I'm meeting with a lot of the Senators who are on the fence, but too many of them fail to see the significance of Corellia's defiance. Once word of the attack on Kuat becomes public, however, I think Omas will be forced to raise troops and prepare to put down the rebellion with force."

"Very good. I must go to Ossus for a meeting of the Jedi, my uncle has called for every available Knight and Master to return immediately. I suspect that he wants to address the rebellion as well, I will do what I can to sway the Jedi to intervene against the rebels forcefully, before more systems join them."

Jacen leaves the meeting room and heads for his personal StealthX fighter, outfitted for long range reconnaissance, which is docked in the lower hangars of the compound.

…

The tattooed man stalks through the shadows on the _Advent Dawn, _carefully avoiding the bustling traffic that moves through the halls. He is able to divert the attention of guards and watchers with the Force, and slips through to the most secure areas of the vessel.

He makes his way into the inner sanctum of the intelligence chiefs, where Colonel Raven keeps his quarters. He finds the correct room, but the door is sealed magnetically. Hurrying off, his footsteps soft and silent, he mentally reviews the layout of the deck he is on.

The man slips around several corners, reaching out with the Force to sense for other presences, but he is alone. He reaches a small maintenance room and opens the door, stepping inside. The room is cramped, with shelves taking up the space near the door and a large air circulation unit roaring loudly on the other side.

The tattooed man walks over to the unit and finds where it joins the wall. He pushes with the Force and peels back the metal duct from the wall, exposing a narrow vent. He smiles to himself, shaking his head as he worms inside headfirst, replacing the duct behind him telekinetically.

…

The Jedi Order convened on Ossus in a massive gathering chamber in the academy. Tiered rows of benches form an oval around a central speaking platform, with stairs leading up from the narrow ends of the oval to wide stone archways at the top of the chamber.

Luke Skywalker and the other members of the Jedi High Council occupy the innermost circle of the chamber, sitting calmly in their Jedi robes. Behind them, the tiers slowly fill up with other Jedi. Most of them are younger Knights, trained in the decade following the Yuuzhong Vong War which took such a heavy toll on the Jedi's numbers.

Tam Solusar and his wife, the head instructors at the Ossus Academy, join Luke in the inner tier. Kyle Katarn walks down the stairs and takes a seat, followed shortly by Corran Horn and Zhayne. The last member of the council to arrive is Seba Sebatyne. Other Jedi are still filling in the seats, although the chamber is more than two thirds full at this point.

Jacen Solo walks in quietly, wearing his Jedi robes over his GAG armor. Sventrare Dermo has taken a seat close to the stairs, and Haytham Kenway sits opposite Jacen Solo near the outermost tier. When a minute goes by without any more Jedi Knights arriving, Luke Skywalker stands and a hush falls over the chamber, slowly spreading outwards until the entire congregation is silent.

Luke extends a hand with a sweeping gesture to the assembled Jedi, saying, "Welcome to Ossus, my fellow Jedi. Thank you for arriving promptly, for we have important matters to discuss."

Luke walks out onto the central speaking platform and projects his voice across the audience chamber, "As you are mostly aware, Corellia has announced her secession from the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. Fondor, Commenor, and Bothawui have joined her in this action, and even now their combined fleets clash with the Alliance over Kuat and Corellia."

Turning as he speaks, Luke continues, "Many prominent officers and soldiers have sided with Corellia, and this divide has exacerbated the fault lines that already exist in the Senate. The Chief of State, Cal Omas, has asked me to provide Jedi Knights for an expedition to retake Kuat and capture the heads of the Corellian resistance government. I turned him down."

Several members of the Council, notably Corran Horn, frown at this and a murmur ripples through the assembled Jedi. Zhayne speaks out,

"Master Skywalker, what do you mean?"

Luke calmly turns to him and says, "The Jedi Order exists to advise the Alliance government and to protect the people of the Alliance, not wage war on them. I could not authorize the use of Jedi Knights in a mission to attack our own people."

Kyle Katarn folds his arms over his chest and says skeptically, "Corellia is in open revolt, isn't it our duty to protect the Alliance from fragmenting?"

Luke shakes his head, "There is no clear moral high ground in this conflict. I will not commit Jedi Knights on behalf of the Alliance without proper justification."

Jacen Solo stands up and calls down loudly, "The attacks on Coruscant, the assassinations at Crix Madine, the sneak attack on Kuat, are these not justification for our intervention?"

Before Luke can respond, Haytham is on his feet shouting back, "They had plenty of provocation from the Alliance themselves! I was there at Corellia when the Alliance blockaded the planet and began slaughtering the workers in the factories who resisted."

The room erupts with hundreds of Jedi taking one side or another, shouting to be heard over each other while Haytham and Jacen trade jabs from across the room. Luke looks around, a stern expression coming over his face. He gathers the Force into himself and unleashes a large wave of energy, just strong enough to rustle cloaks and jostle anyone standing.

He raises his voice to be clearly heard and says commandingly, "Silence. As Grand Master of the Jedi Order, I have made my decision and announced it. The Jedi Order will remain neutral in this conflict until its resolution. If necessary, we will support peacekeeping for both governments."

Jacen becomes apoplectic at this, "That's ridiculous! We're sworn to uphold the Alliance. Would you have every Jedi here turn his back on that oath?"

Luke faces Jacen and says evenly, "The Jedi Order is independent of the Alliance. We serve the Force, and keep the peace. I do not think it is right for us to become involved in what is essentially a civil war."

Haytham adds, "The Alliance brought this rebellion on themselves with their heavy handed tactics."

Most of the younger Jedi Knights are looking to Haytham and Jacen, while the older Masters nod at Luke's reasoning.

Corran Horn says, "As a Corellian myself, I can't condone the methods you're using to suppress this rebellion, Jacen."

Jacen retorts, "I'm the only one doing what's necessary to preserve the Alliance. Have you asked yourself what will happen if the Alliance fractures? The Empire would encroach on our territory, and countless systems would splinter away when they saw that the Alliance was too weak to maintain herself."

Haytham shouts across the chamber, "Would you bind them to you by force? With your Guards? Is it not a Federation of _Free _Alliances?"

Jacen says, "It is an alliance to preserve freedom for its members, but it can't do that if it disintegrates. This is the first internal strife to shake the Alliance, if we don't weather it by standing strong and holding the Alliance together, everything we fought for during the war will be lost."

Many Jedi are nodding in agreement, and voicing their support for Jacen. Luke looks around, gauging their reactions.

He says to Jacen, "We fought against the Vong during the war, but only because they invaded our galaxy. The attack was unprovoked and aimed at our total annihilation. This war is entirely different, we have no right to impose our will on the systems who wish to leave the Alliance."

Haytham continues, walking down the stairs towards the center of the chamber, "We should impose a truce on the two parties, prevent the Alliance from simply slaughtering the Corellians like Jacen would have them do."

Luke cuts in, "No. The Jedi Order will not get involved in this war, it would lead to endless fragmentation and infighting."

Jacen says, almost casually, "It already has. Ben was killed at Corellia."

Luke stops mid-step and says to Jacen, "What?"

A deathly quiet fills the room. Mara Jade lowers her head, quietly realizing the significance of what she felt through the Force, but had refused to accept. Jacen seems to loom above Luke as he continues,

"Your son died fighting the Corellian rebels. Are you just going to let his sacrifice be in vain?"

Luke appears stunned, struggling for words, "No, I should never have let him follow you…"

He walks, dreamlike, towards his seat and sinks into it.

Jacen speaks confidently, "The Jedi Order needs to intervene to stop this bloodshed from escalating. Our full strength can stop this rebellion and preserve the Alliance!"

Haytham, midway down the stairs, stops and calls out, "You have no right! The Jedi are not the Alliance's Kath hounds, our task is to protect the people, not grind them into submission."

Luke looks up at Jacen and says, "Go, return to Coruscant with your Guard. I will hear no more from you."

Jacen appeals to the Jedi around him, "Remember what you are sworn to do, uphold the Alliance or else the galaxy will fall into disarray! Those of you who would fight for order and security, for the principles that the Alliance was founded on and the Jedi Order sworn to defend, join me!"

He walks towards the doors nearest him and nearly half of the younger generation of Jedi Knights makes to follow him, joined by many veterans of the Yuuzhong Vong War. Luke watches them go, numb with horror at his son's death.

Corran Horn stands up and shouts, "Where are you going? To crush Corellia into the dirt?"

Haytham looks to Luke Skywalker, "Give me permission to defend the Corellians, to impose a peace and protect the innocents who will be slaughtered by the Alliance."

Luke does not answer, but Corran Horn walks over to his side and stands with him. Haytham looks around at the remaining Jedi, who are a mix of younger Knights and older masters who had been trained in the days of the New Republic.

He makes towards the entrance opposite Jacen and says, "I go to defend Corellia from Jacen and the Alliance's storm troopers."

Many Jedi join him. Not as many as followed Jacen, but enough that the hall looks practically empty as they file out. Corran Horn follows him, alongside a handful of other masters, but none from the Council. Kyle Katarn stands up at the last moment and attempts to shake Luke into action.

He says, "Luke! Listen to me, what are we going to do?"

Luke does not answer, but Seba Sebatyne does, "We will remain neutral, here on Ossus. There is the matter of the assassins who attacked Crix Madine. There were Force Sensitives among them, we need to root them out and discover their masters."

Kyle grows angry, "No, what are we going to do _now_. The Order is splitting in front of our eyes!"

Luke looks out at Kyle, his eyes sorrowful, and says, "Old friend, I cannot compel the obedience of the Jedi Order, that would make me no better than Jacen in his misguided ways. We will have to trust to the Force to show us the correct path."

Kyle turns and makes to follow Jacen, saying as he goes, "I swore my allegiance to Galactic Alliance, and you may not like it but it's our duty to defend her. Against all enemies, even those from within who would weaken us fatally."

The audience chamber empties out, there is only a meager fraction of the original Knights remaining. Many masters remain, but most of the younger Jedi Knights followed either Jacen or Haytham.

…

The _Sol Eternal _is docked at the Jedi Temple on Ossus, while the Jedi hold their counsel within. Elohirnok, Kael, and Lachance sit in the crew lounge while Thrash goes to find Haytham.

Kael looks at the other two men. Elohirnok appears fatigued, his normally crisp flight suit is matted with sweat and his blond hair appears slightly grimy. Lachance's cold grey eyes stare out evenly from underneath the white medical wrapping on his head.

Breaking the silence that has settled in, Kael says, "You two are welcome to remain with me on Nar Shaddaa until you clear your names with your government, but I do need to get back home."

Elohirnok muses for a moment and nods, "That should work for the time being. I'm sure I can get in touch with Colonel Raven and sort this whole mess out now that that overeager Jedi isn't interfering."

…

As the sun sets on Ossus, numerous craft leave the Jedi Academy. Among them is the _Sol Eternal, _flying gracefully up into the sky and disappearing from sight. Elohirnok sits at the controls, guiding the ship away from the scarred surface of the planet and into the depths of space.

He sets his course for Nar Shaddaa and attempts to establish a holocall to his sister. He doesn't get a reply, and keeps trying until the ship finally makes the jump to hyperspace, cutting him off from the universe and propelling him into the whirling void.


End file.
